The 101st Hunger Games: Forest of Dreams
by androidilenya
Summary: There's a new head Gamemaker in town, and she's decided to make this an amazing Hunger Games! If, you know, she doesn't get sidetracked by tea and cake. Or her very odd collection of Gamemakers. Twenty-four tributes will enter the arena, one will exit. And as the line between reality and dreams starts to fade, one by one the tributes fall... *closed* Complete.
1. Prologue: Panem et Circenses

**Yep. I'm doing another SYOT. Surprised? Well. I dunno, I had fun with the last two :)**

**Short intro first, then submitting info at the bottom.**

* * *

"Killing and being killed... those are just ways to pass time!" The door banged open, revealing a short woman holding a sheet of paper. She had a smirk on her face, green cat-like eyes glittering with amusement.

The President looked up, a frown on his face. "Excuse me?"

"Well." The dark haired woman stepped fully into the room, grinning. "I thought I might as well make a cool entrance, huh? And awesome lines for the win and all that. Plus I thought that making references would be cool!"

"I don't even..." The President shook his head. "You are Daenerys? Daenerys Atreides?"

"You can call me Dany~" Her smile widened. "I'm your new head Gamemaker! Awesome, huh?"

"I..."

"Hey, have you got any tea here?" Dany looked around the sumptuous room, a bored expression on her face. "Or cake. I like cake. Drinking tea and eating cake are my hobbies~"

"I..."

"And watching anime! And sleeping! And-"

"And hopefully designing ways to kill innocent children," the President interrupted. He was not used to being cut off over and over again like this. Fear was a more familiar expression on the faces of his underlings than this easy-going grin Dany had. It was actually a refreshing change.

"Of course~" Dany nodded solemnly, trying and failing to wipe the smirk off her face. "Here's my list of Gamemakers... and an arena plan... and all the usual stuff! It's gonna be super fun, huh?"

"Mm. We'll see." The President took the paper she handed him, glancing over it briefly. "This looks... hm. I'm not sure how that works."

"Seeing as your last Gamemaker gave you _time travel_ in his final arena, I'd have thought you wouldn't be surprised by much~" Dany smirked. "It's not that interesting. But it'll be fun to torture them!"

"Don't mess up," the dark-haired man replied, handing the packet back to her.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, drawing herself up with an arrogant smile. "I am Daenerys Atreides! I am the most awesome Gamemaker ever! When I say I will do something, I will succeed at it amazingly!"

"Fine. Go."

She saluted him with a sardonic smile on her face and swept out, humming something under her breath.

_Well, then. _The President swirled his blood red drink in his cut crystal glass, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. _This will be fun..._

* * *

Sansa Arryn stood at the window, sipping her cup of gently steaming tea and gazing down into the street below. Her long pink hair fell over her face as she regarded the bustling road she viewed.

_Peasants. One day they will all bow down to me as their queen and goddess. One day I will rule the world... as is my right._

She smiled, cherubic pink lips curving in a perfect bow. Straightening her long blue robe, she glanced at the clock. Nine o'clock. Time to head out to that Gamemaker meeting.

* * *

_Ah... what am I supposed to wear?_ Merete Amaranth regarded her wardrobe with dismay, running a hand through her mousy brown hair. She had a meeting to be at in half an hour and she still hadn't picked anything out.

The painfully shy woman was surprised that anyone as high-ranking as the head Gamemaker would ever take notice of someone like her. She had never excelled at anything in her life, and her unfortunate habit of tripping over her own feet meant that most everyone saw her as a liability. Which left her pretty much friendless.

But she had been summoned to a Gamemaker meeting nonetheless. And while she was terrified that the others would take one look at her and burst out laughing and kick her out, she had to have something decent to wear.

* * *

Kushana Visery's apartment was very dim, as every curtain was drawn against the morning light. And that was how the tall woman liked it. Dark and creepy. She ought to suggest a dark arena at this Gamemaker meeting.

The television was on, sound muted. The bright colors of a Hunger Games playback flickered across her impassive face as she watched a Tribute get squashed by a giant bear.

_How unoriginal. The mutts are always so boring. There needs to be something interesting, like... vampire bats. Crossed with moles. So they can burrow and fly and suck your blood._

She considered bringing this up at the Games planning session.

* * *

Isis Perra almost tripped over a pile of books on her way into the dining room, a plate of toast in hand. She regained her balance and adjusted her glasses. which had been knocked askew. A book at the top of the pile caught her eye and she picked it up, read the back, and tucked it under her arm.

By the time she had finished breakfast, the book was back in the pile, read straight through.

She liked books. She liked losing herself in them, entering the characters' minds and worlds. It was a nice escape from real life, where she was a social loser. Reading books was better than watching the Hunger Games- and more interesting. There wasn't nearly enough graphic violence and sex in the Hunger Games. She could get much more for a few credits from the used book store.

Maybe that was why the head Gamemaker had asked her to join them. Because reading books gave her more to draw on. More ways to torture tributes to death in very creative ways.

* * *

The reason that the last batch of Gamemakers had died, Azuki Madarame decided, was because they weren't smart enough. They hadn't taken the necessary precautions, they had not planned with sufficient detail to cover every eventual possibility. It was common knowledge that they had all been executed for almost failing during the Quarter Quell.

She could do a much better job. She was much more intelligent than them. That must have been why she had been invited to join the elite ranks of this year's Gamemakers.

Shrugging on her coat, she ran a few swift calculations in her head. If the typical Careers volunteered this year, and the usual mixture of inept, vaguely trained, or strong-ish tributes were Reaped, then an arena that could provide the highest level of entertainment for the audience would involve a field-leveling element.

Numbers and percentages tumbled through her mind as she strolled leisurely towards the Gamemaker complex.

* * *

"Pow! Bang!" Regina Targaryen finger-pistoled her twin sister. "Wake up, Regina! Right now!"

"Mmph..." The dark haired woman rolled over, eyes fluttering open slightly.

"All you ever do is sleep," her twin complained, rolling her eyes. "We've got that Gamemaker meeting today, though, so you have to at least get up long enough to walk over there."

Regina's hand made a twirling motion.

"No, we can't take a hovercraft over. It's _three blocks away,_ you lazy idiot."

Regina groaned and held out her arms, eyes still closed.

"I will not _carry_ you! Lazy, lazy, lazy!" Rowena slapped her sister playfully on the shoulder. Regina's eyes flashed open, dark blue and deadly, fingers closing around her sister's wrist with surprising force.

She spoke for the first time, voice low and husky. "Don't touch me, sweet sister. I don't think you'd want me to get angry."

* * *

Alyza Spinifex sighed, stretching and regarding her reflection in the mirror. Purple eyes stared back, hard and cynical, framed by close-cropped dark hair.

_Aw, heck, even my reflection's glaring at me..._

She rolled her eyes. "Why the heck do I hafta go to this meeting, anyways?" she asked the mirror. "Do I look like I give a damn about the Hunger Games?" Oh, sure, she watched it every year like a faithful Capitol citizen, but she had never cared about them. Not much, anyways. It wasn't like she was a rebel- that would be too much effort- but it wasn't like she cheered every time a replay came on tv.

"Oh, well. Nothing to do but go." She glanced down at her skimpy nightgown. "Maybe I'd better get changed. I'm sure they'd be scandalized if I showed up half-naked like this." On second thought, it might be amusing to see their expressions. But it wasn't worth the risk. Probably.

* * *

"Good morning, Gamemakers. We are under attack. But first I suppose we should... warm up some tea."

"We're under attack?" a short Asian woman gasped. "That's terrible!"

"Just kidding, there's no attacking. I just wanted to say that~ ...all right! Is everyone here?" Dany cleared her throat. "Roll call! When I say your name, say here and something cool about yourself!"

"What do you think we are, five years old?" A purple-eyed woman leaned back in her chair, sighing.

"Merete Amaranth!" Dany called, ignoring her.

"Eh?" A woman at the far end of the room looked up, looking flustered. "H-here!" She stood and promptly tripped over her own feet, landing with a loud thud and a yelp. She looked up from the floor, blushing. "I-I'm Merete! And I trip and fall at least once a day!"

"Sansa Arryn!"

"Here." A pick-haired woman stood, smirking. "I'm the best here. And all of you should bow down and worship me."

"Okay, next. Daenerys... yeah, I'm here." Dany grinned. "Call me Dany! Especially if you're a hot girl! 'Cause I might want to ask you out, then!"

"..."

"Azuki Madarame! Did you know that your first name means red beans and your last name is-"

"Here," the short woman from before replied. "I do hope that this proves to be a profitable venture, as I have no wish to be associated with a failure."

Dany nodded. "An admirable sentiment, I'm sure. Isis Perra!"

"...h-here..."

"Speak up, bro, can't hear you~"

"Here." Isis pushed back her glasses and fidgeted, face turning bright red. She buried her face in the thick book she was holding, apparently unwilling to say more.

"Alyza Spinifex!"

The purple-eyed woman that had complained earlier looked up. "Here. I was wondering why we're all female...?"

"Because that's what I wanted this year's Gamemakers to be." Dany grinned. "Regina and Rowena Targaryen?"

"Here! I'm Regina. That's Rowena. She's asleep so she can't answer you. She sleeps all the time. And we're twins. And we're identical. And the only way you can tell us apart is our hairstyles~"

"And finally, Kushana Viserys." Dany turned to the last person in the room, a solemn-looking blue eyed woman. "I suppose that's you?"

"Yes. I look forward to causing great pain and suffering among the unfortunates Reaped for these Games." Kushana gave them all a creepy smile.

"And I look forward to working with you!" Dany cheered. "Now where's my tea?"

* * *

**Not a _short_ intro. Sorry. **

**All right! So this looks like it'll be an interesting Games! **

**If you want to submit, go to my profile. The form is there, right at the top (so you don't have to scroll down my super long profile, ne?). I will accept only via PM, no exceptions. **

**If you wish to reserve a spot, specify which one you want (i.e. District Eleven male). This spot will only be reserved for you for FORTY-EIGHT HOURS. No exceptions to this unless you have a really good excuse which you'd have to explain when you reserve.**

**Your opinions don't have too much of an impact on what I do with this story. I will say this, though: it couldn't possibly hurt your tribute's chances if you story alert this story and review. Just saying :3**

**For those who read my last SYOT... don't expect such fast updates! I'm super busy now that we're well into the school year... I have no idea what was going on from August through the first two weeks of November... but no more every-day-updates, probably...**

**And one last thing: the more interesting a character is, the more I'll like him or her. And the more I like him or her, the greater their chances of surviving for awhile. If your character is a ripoff from the 74th or 75th Hunger Games, they will die a bloody death in the bloodbath.**

**Let me know what you think... in a review! And then go submit! Looking forward to seeing your tributes!**


	2. Reapings Part One: Nice To Meet You

**Reapings: Districts One through Six**

* * *

District One

"Up and at 'em, Cainan. Today's the big day, huh?"

Cainan Rubin rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. "Five more minutes...?"

"Wake. Up." Jeriko ripped the blanket off the bed, exposing his little brother. "Look. We all know you've got a right to sleep in today. But maybe Mom wants you to help her with breakfast one last time. Before you go die."

"That's not very supportive," the dark haired boy mumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rubbing his brown eyes. And untrue, though he refrained from saying that. His parents had trained in their time, though they'd never entered the Games, and Jeriko had attended the Career Academy until he aged out last year. So they knew he was about as prepared as he could be.

"Where's Jessie?" he asked. His thirteen year old sister wouldn't be ready to volunteer for a few more years, but according to the instructors there, she has as much promise as her older brother. The one closer to her. The one that happened to be volunteering today.

Yep. Cainan was volunteering for the Hunger Games today. It was his last year to do so, after all, and he wasn't about to miss this chance like the rest of his family had. The Hunger Games and training was all he knew- if he didn't succeed, then what did he have?

"Downstairs," Jeriko replied. "Now get out of bed." He paused. "Cainan!"

"Yes?" Cainan yanked a shirt over his head and turned to face his older brother.

"What do you think your arena strategy is going to be?" Jeriko had adopted that exaggerated Capitol accent, so it was obvious that this was a mock interview question. This was a game that Cainan had played since he started talking.

"Well, sir," Cainan replied, putting on his best smile, "I know that the typical stereotype of a District One boy is big and dumb. Let me tell you right now that, while I may be pretty big, I'm not all that dumb! So I think that I'll keep my strategy to myself for now, huh?" He inserted a wink for effect.

"Hm." Jeriko nodded. "Maybe you won't die right away."

"Thanks." Cainan rolled his eyes and started down the stairs.

Jessie was sitting at the kitchen table, tossing a knife into the air and catching it over and over again with a solemn expression on her olive face. Cainan paused to watch, smiling slightly as he remembered struggling to master that partuicular skill himself.

She missed a catch and the knife clattered to the ground. She let out a little yelp, staring with dismay at the palm of her hand, where a line of ruby red blood was welling up.

Cainan's mother swooped in immediately. "Jezebel Rubin! You have to remember- never show pain! Weakness like that can get you killed!"

"Yes, mother." Jessie looked properly chastened by both the use of her full name and her mother's annoyed tone of voice.

Cainan turned and hurried out. Maybe one day his baby sister would be in the position he was in today- about to volunteer. And maybe he would be around to see it. The odds were, in fact, in his favor, as he was a Career.

_But what if none of us had to go into the arena, ever? What if we never had to kill?_

He shook this thought off. If the Hunger Games didn't exist, all his training would be for nothing. So there was no point in worrying about it.

* * *

Melinda Willmore shoved a short blonde girl out of her way on her way up to the check-in stand. She smirked at the girl's grumbles- no one here was tough enough to beat her in a fight. She would have welcomed an attempt, of course. The dark-haired girl never turned down a chance to fight someone.

Hence her decision to volunteer today. It was only natural.

She joined the other thirteen year olds in their section. She might be young, but she was great with weapons. Plus she had trained in various martial arts- kung fu, judo. No one at the Academy could beat her in hand to hand combat.

The Escort entered from offstage, her long blue hair swishing in her wake. She simpered at the gathered children. "Welcome to the Reaping for the 101st Hunger Games! Aren't you all so _cute!_"

Melinda rolled her eyes. Must she address them as though they were all five years old?

"Ladies first~"

Before the Capitol woman could even unfold the slip of paper, Melinda was off and running. She punched a taller girl in the nose, sending her flying in a spray of blood. She vaulted onto the stage with a grin.

"Melinda Anneliese Willmore," she informed the Escort.

"You know you're supposed to wait until I read the name, right?" the blue haired woman chided her as she reached into the boy's bowl. "Anyways. And the boy: Jasp-"

"I volunteer!" A big, muscular boy with black hair stepped forward. All the other boys fell aside, including the twelve year old boy whose name had been called, allowing him up to the stage. He flashed Melinda a kind smile, which disarmed her- what kind of Career gave that kind of smile to a potential enemy?

_Whatever. I can beat him no problem. _She smiled back at him with a slightly more menacing look in her face.

* * *

District Two

Elita Upshow's sword whistled through the air, the slim steel blade snicking through the neck of the sparring dummy. The metallic figure collapsed with a soft groan, toppling over and hitting the training room floor with a soft thud. Elita vaulted over it, backflipping in midair with ease. She landed with hardly a sound on the opposite side of the room and whirled to counter a strike from a third dummy.

Within minutes every dummy in the room was a jumbled pile of metal and wires, and Elita was regarding her sword blade where the last dummy had nicked it.

"Wrecking more dummies, I see. The Academy head won't be too happy."

Elite spun. "Evelyn."

"That's me~" The dark haired girl stepped into the room, a small smile playing across her pretty face. "Have you missed me?"

"No." Evelyn and Elita had dated for two years, only to have it fall apart once it was clear that Elita wasn't ready for commitment. Evelyn never stopped the flirting, though, and Elita did have to admit, she was quite hot...

"So mean," Evelyn pouted. "Anyways. Storm wanted me to tell you that he wanted to meet up with you before the Reaping."

"Right. Whatever." Elita sheathed her sword and left it in the corner of the room. She wiped her sweaty forehead on the back of her arm. "Go away."

"Or what? You'll beat _me_ half to death, too?"

"Shut up!" Elita turned and stormed out, slamming the door to the street outside as she left. Why did Evelyn have to constantly tease her like that? Why couldn't she just leave her alone?

_And why does she have to be so goddamn attractive?_

She hurried past the town square, averting her eyes from the whipping post as she did so. The scars on her back twinged as she remembered that day, years ago. The stares from the people gathered to watch... the burning pain as the whip descended over and over...

Elita shook her head and continued past the square. She also bypassed her own house- if her father wasn't about to acknowledge her existence on a normal day, then fine. She'd do whatever it took to get him to notice. Even if that included volunteering.

_If I win, he can't ignore me anymore._

* * *

"Be good, Axel. I'll see you in the Justice Building, okay?"

Ryder Hall's fourteen-year-old brother nodded, looking uncomfortable. "Ryder... are you sure...?"

"C'mon, kid, I'll be fine!" He tousled his younger brother's brown hair, so like his own. "There's no way I won't win. Right? Hasn't grandpa taught me everything he knows?" Lewis Hall, Ryder and Axel's grandfather, had been a Victor long ago, from before the Mockingjay rebellion. He had taken it upon himself to train Ryder. Axel, on the other hand, was nowhere near as enthusiastic about the Hunger Games as his older brother.

Ryder let the Peacekeeper at the desk prick his finger, reflecting that in District Two, kids like Axel were remarkably lucky. Anyone in a Career district that didn't want to enter the Hunger Games simply did not have to volunteer. There were no shortage of children clamoring to be the one on that stage.

He zoned out a bit as the Escort, an elderly man with bone-white hair, quavered a speech into the microphone. The video was the same as usual, not interesting after he'd seen it five times.

The girl was drawn first, as was customary. Ryder smiled slightly as the female side erupted as they all tried to get up onto the stage. A girl with a short, boy-like haircut won through, climbing the stairs with confidence.

"I'm Elita Upshow," she announced into the microphone, staring above the heads of the children to someone at the back.

"Wonderful," the Escort replied, patting her back. "And now the boys...?"

Ryder was at the front of the crowd by the time the first syllable of the name on the slip of paper was read. He hopped onstage and winked at Elita.

"I'm Ryder Hall," he said calmly. He smiled slightly at the crowd- it was never too soon to start making an impression on the audience.

* * *

District Three

Branwell Annisson sat crosslegged in his attic, surrounded by piles and piles of dusty books. This was where he felt most comfortable- alone, with a nice poem. The attic was a sort of haven in the hectic life of a District Three child- he didn't have the academic smarts to be wildly successful here, something that was a source of stress.

He ran a finger along the dusty pages of the large, leather-bound book in front of him. "Hope is the thing with feathers...that perches in the soul," he sounded out. "And sings the tune-without the words, and never stops at all..."

"Knew you'd be up here!"

Branwell jumped, almost dropping the book. "D-damian!"

A buck-toothed, dark haired boy poked his head though the trap door into the attic. He sneezed as a cloud of dust wafted up to him. Branwell's friend was even more socially awkward than he was, if that was even possible. "Your mom said to come get you before you forgot to come to the Reaping."

"Sure." Branwell shoved the book to the side, promising himself he'd come back to read more after the Reaping. He followed his friend down the creaking ladder, shutting the trapdoor behind him.

It didn't even cross his mind to worry that he might be Reaped.

* * *

The Peacekeeper at the desk seemed to stab her finger with particular roughness as he took her blood. Fionn glared at him before joining her fellow fourteen-year-olds. Her hand crept into her pocket, where a bunch of wires and gears poked through the fabric into her leg.

_Wonder what I could make with this?_

The Reaping was truly an inconvenience. It wasted precious time, time she could have spent wandering District Three in search of more part for her bizarre inventions. She annoyed most of her fellow citizens, she knew that, but it was hardly her fault. They were just so ignorant, so arrogant and deluded. Was it really her fault that she was always right?

But somehow whenever she informed them of their failings, they hated her for it.

She watched the pink haired Escort make a little speech, wondering why the citizens of the Capitol insisted on dying their hair such odd colors. Did they think it made them look pretty? Idiots.

She was jolted back to earth by the sound of her name echoing across the town square.

"Fionn Peyton!"

Fionn's eyes widened. Her first emotion was anger. Obviously they had rigged this, made sure she was called. They didn't appreciate her honesty, they were so arrogant and ignorant that they would send her off to the Hunger Games instead of listening to her (correct) advice. But there was nothing else to do but make her way up to the stage on leaden legs, fury pounding through her like blood through her veins.

Meanwhile the Escort had drawn a boy's name. "Damian Wires!"

A terrified looking boy gasped and tried to back away, shivering. Fionn spared him a withering glance- weakness like that was just pathetic.

"I volunteer." A brown haired boy stepped forward, saying the words so quietly and calmly that the Escort almost didn't notice. Fionn rolled her eyes. If you were going to do something like that, you ought to do it with confidence, she wanted to tell him.

"And you are...?"

"Branwell Annisson," he stammered, looking away. Obviously a very shy boy.

"District Three, I present to you your tributes for the 101st Hunger Games: Fionn Peyton and Branwell Annisson!"

Fionn sighed. Looked like she'd just have to win this and prove that she was right once and for all. District Three would have to listen to a Victor, after all.

* * *

District Four

"Aw, man, I'm super tired." Primo Nitore yawned expansively, leaning against a tree in his backyard. "But I guess I still have to go to the Reaping. Isn't that terrible?"

The brown haired boy stood there for a few more seconds, quite aware of how amazing he looked in this pose. Fanservice, he called it.

"Hm, I think I shall volunteer today," he informed the empty air. "Mostly because I'm bored. And there's no way someone like me could ever lose."

With this in mind he set off for the town square.

* * *

Taristia Proneram regarded the other girls surrounding her with slight disdain. They were all so beneath her. They annoyed her ever so much, with their inane chatter and obsession with boys and appearance and little things like that. If only it wasn't illegal to murder them all. She would take great pleasure in ripping them apart.

But, you know, she couldn't do that. At least not here. Hence her decision to volunteer. If she could get into the arena, no one would be able to stand up to her. She could finally kill them all. All of them. Everyone who pissed her off.

Everyone pissed her off eventually. And bad things happened to people who pissed Taristia off.

_I'm going to rule this arena. I'll kill them all with my bare hands if need be. But it' d be ever so much fun with an axe._ She smiled at this thought.

The Escort, a pale thin man with a shock of golden hair, pranced onstage. He spoke into the mike in an incredibly annoying, chirpy voice. "Hello! I'm glad to be here today! And I love you guys!" He grinned. "Ladies first!"

_Oh, how I want to kill him._ Taristia barely even let him read out the first syllable on the slip of paper. She shoved the girl in front of her to the ground and purposefully stepped on her back, eliciting a squeal of pain from the downed girl. Smiling slightly, Taristia lept onto the stage using the girl as a springboard, ignoring both the stairs that she was supposed to use and the girl's small scream.

"Taristia Proneram," she informed the surprised looking Escort.

"Ah! I see! Well! Boys next!" He reached into the glass bowl. "Leighton Dewleaf!"

The crowd of boys surged forward, but somehow there was one already up onstage, a boy with spiky light brown hair and a small, calm smile on his face. Taristia blinked- she hadn't seen him get up. How...?

"Primo Nitore." He said it slowly, giving the Escort a long gaze. He noticed Taristia's stare and turned to her, slowly. And smiled at her. Slowly.

"Do you do everything slowly?" she spat as they were led offstage. He tilted his head to one side and nodded... slowly.

_Well, that's annoying. _She decided she would kill him very slowly, as was fitting for such a slow boy.

* * *

District Five

"Four more years of this. Then we can breathe freely without the fear that she'll be taken from us."

"Indeed. It would be a shame to lose such a fascinating lab experiment."

Figures in white lab coats bustled back and forth, peering at the screens that displayed the readouts from a dark room just beyond the steel door that dominated one side of the room. Inside this room, only visible through the night-vision cameras, was a small figure, huddled in the corner.

Her face was turned to the ceiling above swathed in darkness, eyes wide and unseeing. Taylor Lezeret had never seen the light on a daily basis. She was brought out once a year as required by law for the Reaping, and hurried back in here as soon as possible. She was District Five's longest running lad experiment.

"Taylor?" One of the scientists pressed a button, turning on the speakers in the dark room. The girl looked to where she knew the door was by touch alone, having never really seen it. "Time to fly."

The girl nodded and stood. She waited for the scientists to come and lead her out.

* * *

"You nervous?"

Auden Ringer looked over at his friend Jacob. "I'm always nervous here," he muttered.

"Well, that's okay," the taller boy replied. "Once we're done here you can come over and we can work on the Project. I found some awesome copper wiring at the dump the other day."

Auden nodded. His hand darted into his pocket, where he turned a screw over and over in his fingers. The metal was cool to the touch, the only thing he had from his parent's hardware store, which had burned to the ground three years ago.

The Escort sashayed onstage, barely dressed by District Five standards. He'd heard his parents mutter about the Capitol women and their revealing clothing, but he was fairly sure that their Escort's bikini was a bit much even by Capitol standards.

"Hello, District Five~" she purred into the mike, winking with one makeup-encrusted eyelid. Her entire face sparkled like some circus performer's. "Ready for the 101st Hunger Games?"

If she had been expecting cheers, she would be disappointed. No one in District Five liked the Hunger Games. No one.

"Ladies first!" She dipped one manicured hand into the bowl, shuffling the papers teasingly. She pulled one out and read, "Taylor Lezeret!"

Auden frowned. Who was that?

A group of white-coated scientists started muttering, looking very concerned. One seemed to be trying to hide a pale girl who was blinking owlishly in the sunlight. The Peacekeepers nearby seized the girl- Taylor, presumably- and dragged her up to the stage.

"I guess you're Taylor?" the Escort asked.

"Huh?"

"You're the tribute for District Five!"

"Tribute?" Taylor looked like she honestly had no idea what the Escort was talking about.

"For the Hunger Games!"

Taylor looked even more confused. "Hunger... Games?"

Auden frowned. Who was this girl? Who in Panem didn't know what the Hunger Games were? Maybe she was mentally challenged. That would make sense, actually.

"Boys, um next?" The Escort pulled out a slip of paper. "Auden Ringer."

_Huh? No. No way. There's no way she just read my name. That's not possible... I can't go to the Hunger Games! I have to go home and help Jacob with the Project! And I have to help mom and dad with everything so we can start another hardware store!_

Somehow he ended up onstage, though he had no memory of walking up there. His heart pounded as he stared out at the sea of faces, watching him with pity, like they knew he wouldn't come back.

Up close like this he could see Taylor a lot more clearly. She had vampire-pale skin and dark bags under her eyes. She was still blinking like the light hurt her eyes, and she was staring at everything as though she had never seen anything before.

"Nice to meet you?" he offered, holding out his hand. She stared blankly at him with colorless, washed-out eyes.

_Yeah. Definitely something wrong with her._

* * *

District Six

The flame from the lighter licked along the edge of the piece of paper, curling the flimsy sheet, sending tendrils of smoke into the air. The paper blackened, curling up into itself. It finally crumbled into ash in a final flurry of sparks, some of which landed on her skin. She ignored the sting, a small smiled creeping across her pale face.

Fenetre Feu leaned back in her chair, clicking the lighter on and off, watching the tiny orange flame flicker in and out of existence. There was no noise in the empty house but her breathing and the clack of the flint against the striker.

Fire was her first best friend.

The technology that the citizens of District Six used to produce the trains and hovercraft in the Capitol only interested her as far as they could create fire or explosions. She would never understand why no one seemed to agree with her, or why they treated her like such an outcast for loving it. Maybe they expected her to be afraid of the fire, considering the fact that it had been a fuel explosion that had killed her parents.

That explosion...

It had been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

One day, she would create something of equal beauty. This was something she had always dreamed of. Someday, the whole District would be witness to- would be part of- her greatest creation yet.

She smiled, the flame from the lighter reflecting in her vibrant green eyes.

* * *

Gavin frowned at the line of children filing into the Reaping area. They were late. That was inexcusable.

He checked the pocketwatch that his friend Collin had given to him three years ago- silver with a gold snake curling around it. The Reaping was supposed to start a minute ago. So the Escort was late as well. Terrible.

He caught the eye of the mayor and smiled slightly. Ever since he'd been singled out by the mayor to be his daughter's bodyguard, life had been pretty easy. Putting his larger size and rough appearance to work, as well as his developed sense of justice, had payed off. After working as a bouncer at a bar for awhile, he'd been picked to guard the mayor's daughter with his life.

If, of course, he wasn't Reaped first.

The Escort finally strode onstage, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Hello, hello, sorry I'm late." He played the movies as usual. Unlike most of the kids, Gavin paid attention to it. The story of justice always intrigued him- how the Capitol put down the supposedly lawless Districts and promptly instituted a Game that made murder acceptable. It was an odd juxtaposition.

"Fenetre Feu!"

Gavin started. He knew that name. That was that creepy pyro girl that lived in a shack on the outskirts of town. Well. Looked like she was finally getting what she deserved for putting innocent citizens in danger with her pastime.

"Gavin Striker!"

Wait. That was him.

He sighed. Looked like he was going to die. Trudging up to the stage, he glanced at the kids that he passed. They all looked away as if afraid that his death sentence would rub off on them.

Fenetre grinned at him as he mounted the stage. "Hey there! Ready to make these Games go up with a bang?"

Gavin decided that she was beneath him. She would get what she deserved. It was only right that she be brought to justice for her dangerous hobby.

Yes. And maybe he would even be the one to give her that justice.

* * *

**Districts Seven to Twelve are next chapter, obviously. 'Cause I didn't want to cram them all into one.**

**Review please! Who do you like so far?**


	3. Reapings Part Two: I Will Beat You

**Reapings: Districts Seven through Twelve**

* * *

District Seven

Quarry pounded the punching bag in front of her with reckless abandon, grinning as the skin above her knuckles split and began to bleed. The punching bag groaned as she struck again and again, sweat pouring down her forehead.

_Yeah, so District Seven's weak, huh? Yeah, right. I'll show them._

She paused, wiping her forehead on the back of her arm, then redoubled her attack. So the Capitol wanted her to stay in District Seven and be a 'good girl', huh? She's show them. If they forbade her from exploring the Districts, she'd just have to go win the Hunger Games. Then she'd be able to do whatever she wanted.

Training was just another hobby. The Hunger Games would be another adventure.

She missed being free, being able to wander the Districts as she pleased. But the Capitol had put a stop to that, hadn't they? Catching her and threatening her with becoming an avox. Like they'd turn the daughter of District Seven's minister of trade into an avox.

"Quarry?" Cobalt stuck her head into the room, a shy smile on her face. "Are you ready for the Reaping?" She took one look at Quarry's sweat-stained t-shirt and shorts and gasped in horror. "You can't go like that!"

"Try stopping me," Quarry snapped. After the Capitol had caught her wandering through the orchards of District Eleven (pretty sucky place, she'd liked Two better), they'd assigned Cobalt Carson to be her friend and watcher. The idiotic girl tried to keep her in line, sure, though she failed pretty miserably at it.

Quarry pitied her. Cobalt seemed to be incapable of thinking for herself.

"Fine," she muttered. "I'm coming." She yawned and trailed after Cobalt.

_Oh, well. I'll be free from her soon. And they'd never dare to restrict a Victor's movements, would they?_

* * *

Rowan watched as the Escort walked onstage, a wide smile on her face. She was wearing gold lipstick this year- how odd.

She wasted no time, reaching straight into the girl's bowl. "Aly Riza!"

A girl with muddy brown hair shoved her way to the front of the crowd, grinning. "Hey, hey, I volunteer!" She had a restless look in her brown eyes, but she seemed cheerful enough as she vaulted onstage.

Rowan grimaced. What kind of idiot was this? Did she think she could stand up to the Careers? Then again, maybe she was volunteering because she was trained. That would be disgusting- a District Seven Career? Terrible. Like going over to the enemy's side.

"Rowan Lander!"

He raised an eyebrow. So that was how it was, huh? He strode up to the stage purposefully, even allowing a tiny, confident grin to creep onto his face. He was the one in control here. It was only a matter of time until everyone else realized that.

_I'm going to beat everyone here. Including you, Quarry._

* * *

District Eight

_Lucy? Lucy, are you in there?_

The long haired girl shifted in her bed, straining slightly against the wrist restraints that kept her on the bed. _Death? Is that you?_

_Of course._

_Is it Reaping day? _That was one of the few reasons Death and the others woke Lucy- to let her know that another year had gone by, that she might be called upon to fight for her life in the arena.

_Yes. Timothy wants you to stay calm, no? _This was the voice of a mature woman, commanding and lower than the adolescent's. it was obvious who was in charge here. And it wasn't Lucy.

_We love you, Lucy! _ a more childish voice cut in. _Now go back to sleep, huh?_

_Thanks, Nyuu..._ The sixteen year old faded out.

_If she gets Reaped, you might be in trouble, Nyuu,_ a male voice with a Japanese accent cut in.

_Don't worry her, Timothy, _the woman- Death- chided. _No need to worry the five year old. And Lucy'll never get hurt. I'll make sure of that. Anyone that touches her will have to deal with me. _There was a deadly steel in Death's voice.

Lucy and her three voices waited for the hospital personnel to come and lead her to the Reaping.

* * *

"MUSCLES, AW YEAH!" Ike Reddo yelled to the sky above, ignoring the bewildered stares from those around him. He flexed his super awesome muscles, staring at them admiringly.

The Escort glared down at him as if to tell him to shut up, but Ike ignored him. His muscles were his pride and joy- he worked out every single day to keep these babies up. So it was only natural that he would take great pride in them.

"Muscles, you are awesome," he continued, gazing down at his biceps. "Beautiful. And awesome. You are... godlike!"

"Lucy Silk!" the Escort finally yelled, apparently having gotten tired of waiting for Ike to shut up.

"Muscles!"

"Ike Reddo!"

"That's MUSCLES to you!" Ike frowned. "Wait. What?"

"Ike. Reddo." The Escort had a facial expression that clearly said 'oh-great-figures-it's-this-idiot'. "Get up here onstage before I get the Peacekeepers to drag you up."

Ike grinned and sauntered up. "Well, this is weird. I'm going to the Hunger Games, huh?" He turned to the tiny girl standing next to him and suddenly realized that Lucy's eyes were wide and tear-filled. "Oh, oh, hey, there's no need to cry! I don't like seeing people cry! So I think I'm gonna take care of you! I will beat everyone else up for you! Know what? I've got an awesome secret. Wanna know what it is?"

"What?"

He leaned in and whispered into her ear, "I've got MUSCLES! Aw, yeah!"

Lucy sniffed and looked up at him, confused. "...what?"

* * *

District Nine

Sheila Birsten slipped across the street like a shadow, soundless and near invisible. She slipped under the fence and made her way across the pristine lawn, barely bending a blade of grass as she passed. Her blue eyes were inscrutable as she scaled the barbed wire fence.

The Boss had ordered her to give this man a piece of his mind. To scare him a bit. To convince him that helping the Boss was a good idea. And Sheila liked nothing better than intimidating cruel men like this.

Too bad she wouldn't be able to kill him, too.

She darted up the wall like a spider, working her fingers into the window latch. It slid aside with a soft creak and she was in, landing in the rich room beyond with a soft noise. She froze, glancing back and forth, making sure no one had noticed her.

Coast clear. Time to go.

The man's room was at the end of the hall. She slid in, closing the door softly behind her and drawing her knife.

Five minutes later she was leaping out the window, thumping softly against the grass. The man had been convinced that helping the Boss was in his best interests. And as per the Boss' orders, no blood had been spilled. Odd that such weak cowards were so terrified by the sight of a steel blade pressed against their skin. But whatever worked.

She made her way into town, slipping the knife into her boot. Time to rejoin humanity and at least attempt to pass for a normal human being with absolutely no Mafia connections whatsoever.

* * *

Caden surveyed the crowd, eyes sharp. He could tell by now what prospective customers looked like- the wide eyes, the pale skin, the hyperactive breathing. The signs of an addict desperate for a fix.

And how convenient for them that someone like him existed.

There was a small packet of the stuff- he called it Crystal, who knew what the stoners called it- in his pocket. The man that gave him this stuff expected a certain amount to be sold every week, so it wasn't as if Reaping Day meant he could take a day off.

The Escort marched onstage, grey mustache slicked back like every year. "Good morning, District Nine," he barked into the microphone. Without wasting any time he reached into the girl's bowl. "Sheila Birsten!"

A dark haired girl stepped forward, stonefaced. There was no fear at all in her blue eyes as she climbed the stairs and went to stand by the Escort.

"Caden Russell!"

A wave of whispers went through the crowd- probably from the druggies he supplied, wondering how they'd get their fix now. Caden stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to seem nonchalant as he strolled up to the stage, doing his best to hide his shock.

_I'm going to the Hunger Games,_ he realized with surprise and a little dread. _I'm going to die._

* * *

District Ten

"Kivuta! I don't ever want to have you come home late again like that!"

Kivuta glared at her stepmom, clenching her fists. "It's no business of yours when I come home! It's hardly as though you're my mother!"

Ginger Nott-Seiswen (even her _name_ said it- not Seiswen) folded her arms and looked down the bridge of her bony nose at the dark haired girl. "When I married your father, I took on the responsibilities of caring for you and your brothers. I intend to act as the mother in place of the one you lost!"

"Shut the hell up!" Kivuta yelled, slamming her fist against the wall. "You're not my mother, goddammit! And how are you supposed to be a mother to us if you can barely take care of your own daughter?"

"I take care of Yumi just fine!" Her stepmother looked outraged.

"Yeah, sure! Who save her that time she wandered off when you were taking a nap? Me! I'm more of a mother figure than you'll ever be, you cow!"

Her stepmother's face darkened with fury. "Get out of my house."

"It's not even your house!" Kivuta stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Tears of fury obscured her vision as she stomped down the path.

_I'll show her. I'll show her that I'm stronger than her. I'll beat her and win and make sure she can never shame me like this ever again!_

* * *

Foster chatted amiably with the Peacekeeper as he signed in. He knew this man- he let the workers on Cody's Ranch come in after curfew if the boss kept them late. He never whipped them for minor offenses like sneaking some of the sugar cubes they were supposed to feed the horses (not that Foster ever did such dishonest things).

He made his way to the eighteen-year-old section with a small smile. This was his last year here. Next year he'd be able to wake up on Reaping Day without the fear that this year he would be the one going into the arena. He'd be able to continue working on Cody's Ranch, maybe even get a promotion now that there was no danger of him leaving.

The sky above was a flawless blue, the air crisp and refreshing. All in all it was a perfect day. After this, Foster would walk on out to the ranch and spend some time with the cows, maybe brush them down or give them extra food in honor of Reaping Day. He liked animals quite a bit. It was one of the qualities that might make him a good overseer one day.

The Escort wandered onstage, looking a little lost. He scratched his head, mumbling something into the microphone. The mayor gestured for him to move closer so everyone could hear him, looking slightly impatient.

"Ah... hello? Welcome to the, um, Hunger Games," the Escort said vaguely, staring off into the distance as if occupied with something much greater than this. "Ladies, ah... first." He reached into the bowl and promptly dropped the slip of paper. He bent to retrieve it, flushing slightly as a chuckle ran though the crowd. He unfolded the paper and read, "Eva Miren..."

A girl from the seventeen year old section started for the stage, only to be cut off halfway there by another girl. "I volunteer!"

Foster gasped, along with pretty much everyone else there. A volunteer? From District Ten? Unheard of. That just didn't happen. Who would want to go to the Hunger Games? Unless they were, of course, insane. Maybe she was crazy.

The Escort nodded. "What's your name?"

"Kivuta Seiswen." She smiled at him cheerfully.

"Ah. I see... boys next?" He managed to hold onto the slip this time. "Foster Beckett!"

Foster froze. Surely this was a mistake. It was his last year- it wasn't fair that he would be the one picked.

Somehow he managed to force through the surprise and make his way up to the stage, trying to push back the terror. Kivuta looked entirely too happy for someone going to the Hunger Games, he decided. It was... weird.

"District Ten, I present to you your tributes: Kivuta Seiswen and Foster Beckett!"

* * *

District Eleven

Pastel Reus hated it when the orchards were running smoothly. It meant that he had nothing to do.

Sure, he could always pick fruit like some common laborer, but that was beneath him. He was an axman, in charge of removing dead and dying trees so no one got crushed by them. He was the best of the best, able to fell a tree in one minute and forty seven seconds. Which was fast. Admittedly, that brat from uptown could do it a few seconds faster, but he often decided to forget that.

He ran his finger along the edge of his axe, careful not to cut himself on the razor-sharp edge. This axe was his pride and joy, handed down through generations of axmen... okay, not really. He'd stolen it from another boy's supplies when a tree fell on him.

Trees had a habit of falling on people he knew. His father, for one. Maybe it was just that Pastel was a tree-accident-magnet.

It seemed like a skill that would be useful to have, having trees fall on people you knew. Or people that annoyed you. Not that his father had annoyed him.

The orchards were currently deserted, as the workers of District Eleven had Reaping Day off. It was a nice place to be when no one was here, since most of humanity pissed Pastel off. Including most of District Eleven and the idiotic parents that had given him such a stupid name. And such a stupid nickname, too. If you're going to name your kid Pastel, you might as well give him a semi-okay nickname. Not Crayola.

He glanced at the sun. Looked like he'd better head off to the Reaping now. Another thing that pissed him off, as most things in life did.

Sigh...

* * *

Trinya closed her eyes and tried to block out the noise of the crowd. It was nicer with her eyes closed- nothing appearing in front of her, nothing from her fantasy world invading the real world. Or what they called the real world. Sometimes the Fantasy World seemed more real.

When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by a crowd of blue blobs.

_Eh. Not that bad. I must not be as scared as I thought I was._

She closed her eyes again. As much as she tried, she couldn't control the Fantasy World. As far as she could tell, it was at least superficially affected by her emotions at the time, but every time she opened her eyes it might change.

The sound of high heels on the wooden stage alerted her to the fact that the Escort had arrived. She kept her eyes closed through the speech and the movie that they always played, as once that was over her fear level went way up. And when she was afraid, the Fantasy World got scary, too.

"Trinya Howard!"

"Eh?" Her eyes snapped open and she screamed. The Escort was a monster with six eyes and sharp teeth, drool dripping from its horrendous jaws. The crowd around her was full of demons, red eyes and yellow horns and blue skin.

Hands fastened around her arms and two demons in white uniforms were dragging her up to the stage. She struggled, shrieking, trying to get away from them. Even though the more rational part of her mind told her these were Peacekeepers helping her up to the stage, the Fantasy World was dominant right now.

"Pastel Reus!"

Somehow she was up on the stage next to the lurking monster that was the Escort. A dark haired boy stood next to her, a pissed off expression on his face. For some reason he was the only one that looked normal, something that she was very grateful for.

"Pastel?" she blurted out. "That's a weird name."

Something snapped in his dark eyes. "You make fun of my name? I'll tear you to pieces till you beg for me to make fun of your name!" He moved forward, fists raised, only to be restrained by two demons in white uniforms.

Trinya closed her eyes. _Please let it all go away..._

* * *

District Twelve

"Ollie, Ollie, braid my hair!"

Oliver Olivia Tilson (Ollie for short 'cause she's a girl) smiled down at her little sister. "Aw, Olivia, you're a big girl. Are you sure you still want me to do your hair?"

Olivia looked up at her, aqua green eyes shining. "Of course!"

Ollie smiled and ran her hands through her sister's auburn hair. The two of them looked exactly alike. And ever since their parents had died of some mysterious illness, she had been in charge of her sister. She'd work in the mines, she'd steal food, do anything to make sure that the District let her keep her sister and not give her away to a community home. That was the only thing she cared about.

That and making sure that Olivia was never Reaped.

She shook off this worry. It would be two years before Olivia could be Reaped. And Ollie would never let her sister take tesserae, reducing the chances of her being Reaped. And even if she was, Ollie could always volunteer for her.

"We'll come home tonight and make some strawberry pie, huh?" she said cheerfully. "We got some from the store downtown yesterday, 'member."

Olivia nodded. "I love you, big sis."

"I love you too."

* * *

"Hey, hey, Alec, what color do you think the Escort's hair is gonna be this year?" Maxell Kyler asked his pet squirrel. The kids near him stared at him but he ignored them. They were irrelevant. And stupid.

"And they call me stupid so I hate them. Right, Alec? But I think that- hey, look, a grasshopper!" Maxell knelt to examine this newest discovery, completely forgetting whatever it was he had been about to say.

The Escort walked onstage and he looked up. "Blue hair!" He scratched his head with his right hand, since his left had gotten amputated a few years ago by a Peacekeeper.

The Escort glared down at him as if trying to telepathically order him to shut up. Maxell ignored her. "But blue hair seems weird. I liked it better last year when her hair was white. It seemed more natural. The year before that- hey, I wonder why the sky is blue."

"Oliver Tilson!"

"Hey, wait, isn't that a boy's name? Aren't you supposed to call the girls up first?" Maxell tilted his head to one side. "I don't get it."

A girl walked up onstage, crying.

"Wait. Oliver is a girl?"

"Maxell Kyler!"

"That's me!" He paused. "Wait. Hunger Games? Oh no, I don't like hunger, it's not funny to be hungry!"

His brother stepped forward, about to volunteer for his one-handed brother, but his parents lept forward and held the older boy back, obviously eager to get rid of the weirdo in the family.

"Oliver, huh?" he asked the girl, shaking her hand.

"Oliver Olivia. Named after both of my parents," she sniffed. "Ollie for short." She offered him a weak smile.

"District Twelve, I present to you your tributes for the 101st Hunger Games: Oliver Olivia Tilson and Maxell Kyler!"

* * *

**And we're done with the Reapings!**

**Review please. And if you submitted a tribute, can you answer this question:**

**Pick a color: red, white, or black. If you submitted two tributes, pick two. They can be the same or different, doesn't matter. Thanks!**


	4. Goodbyes: Tell Your Children The Truth

**Goodbyes (in no particular order)**

**One District partner's p.o.v. in this chapter, the other in the next (train rides).**

* * *

District Twelve

"Please take care of him."

Ollie looked up from her folded hands, surprised. A dark haired boy who bore a more than superficial resemblance to Maxell stood in front of her, apparently having come in while she was sobbing quietly in the corner. Because that's what tributes do. Cry in corners.

"Who?" she blurted out.

"Maxie. Maxell," he said, giving her a look. Now that she thought about it, under the circumstances it was fairly clear who 'he' was. "He... he's an odd child. He's never really grown up. I've always taken care of him, but now that he's going... going to the arena..." The boy swallowed and cleared his throat. "Please?"

"Why didn't you volunteer for him?" Ollie would have done it for Olivia, why not this boy for his brother?

"My parents didn't let me." He looked ashamed. "They were glad for a chance to get rid of the weirdo."

"I see." Ollie smiled, wiping away a tear. "I'll protect him."

_But don't think I'll let it get in the way of my victory. I have to get home so I can care for Olivia._

* * *

District Ten

"Why'd you do it?" Kivuta's stepmother burst through the door, fury in every line of her ugly little face. A flash of satisfaction replaced the nervous feeling that had been settling in the pit of her stomach. She stood, a triumphant smile on her face.

"You can't control my every move, can you?" she spat. "Look at me! I'm breaking your stupid old rules!"

"You volunteered."

"No shit." Kivuta felt a thrill go through her as she said this- she'd never dared to curse in front of the old hag. But now she was fearless, because she was beyond her stepmother's reach.

"You did it because you wanted to annoy me!?" Her stepmother's face twisted with disbelief and disgust. "Fine. Go die. See if I care!" She spun and stomped out, slamming the door behind her.

Kivuta flipped her off, then turned and slumped into the nearest chair.

* * *

District Two

"Now, you need to remember that you can't trust anyone in the arena, got it? And the first thing to do is work with the Career alliance. Some of those District One kids are pretty stupid, so you'll probably want to take control of that group and make sure no one makes any dumb mistakes. District Four is usually fairly weak, though that's where watching the Reapings beforehand comes in handy-"

"Grandpa," Ryder interrupted. "I'll be fine. All this stuff- that's why I have a mentor!"

"Pretty boy mentor won't help you much," the old man muttered irritably, referring to the young man that had taken over mentoring the District Two male tributes after he had retired. "You won't need to pay much attention to the lower Districts after the bloodbath, because they tend to kill each other off or die because they're stupid. But going on an occasional hunt can't hurt-"

"Grandpa..."

"Who's been in the arena, boy, you or me?" The old man's eyes flashed with anger and Ryder flinched.

"Yes, grandpa." It was quite a relief when the Peacekeepers came in about a minute later to announce that their visiting time was up.

_I'll show him. I'm going to win this._

* * *

District Three

"Why'd you volunteer for me?"

Branwell looked up, surprised at Damian's unusually forceful tone of voice. "I... I thought it was the right thing to do," he said quietly.

"Aw. Th-thanks." The buck-toothed boy sank into a seat next to his friend, sighing. "I d-don't suppose you really th-think you can win."

He saw no point in lying. "No."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Branwell offered his best approximation of a comforting smile.

"I b-brought you th-this." Damian held out a small tennis ball with a hole in it, hand shaking a bit. A wave of gratitude swept over Branwell's face as he gently took it.

"Thank you." This was the last gift that Branwell's father had given him before being electrocuted while working in the factory. Damian must have gone back to Branwell's house to get it before coming to the Justice Building, knowing that his friend would have wanted to have it with him in the arena.

_I'm lucky to have a friend like that, aren't I?_

"Got any p-poems for me?" Damain said, laughing

"I cannot rest from travel; I will drink- Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those- That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when- Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades- Vext the dim sea. I am become a name- For always roaming with a hungry heart." Branwell trailed off, wiping at his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't crying.

"I'll miss you." Damian offered a hug uncertainly and Branwell wrapped his arms around his best friend for the last time.

* * *

District Six

"Gavin."

The boy looked up at the sound of his sister's voice. "Levy." She was the only one that he allowed to address him by his real name. Everyone else had to call his Zero.

"I'm so sorry that this had to happen." Her eyes brimmed with tears as she sat down next to him, lower lip trembling. "Oh, Gavin..."

"No need to cry," he said roughly, looking away. He cast around for something to talk about besides his impending death. "So Father dearest decided not to come?" This was said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

"He cares about you!" she protested.

"You're a terrible liar. Everyone knows he never wanted another kid after perfect little you. He's probably glad to see me off," Gavin said bitterly._  
_

"I care about you." She seemed about to say something more, but the Peacekeeper opened the door just then.

"Time's up."

She stood, conflicting emotions crossing her face. "Come home, Gavin."

"I'll try." His hand crept to the pocketwatch in his jacket. The boy that had first owned this, his friend Collin's little brother, had taken into the arena three years ago. And had died.

Hopefully he would have a bit more luck than Jack.

* * *

District Eleven

In her terror, Trinya's parents seemed like dark shadows, wavery in the light and powerless to keep her from this danger. Which sounded like one of those similies (or was it metaphors?) that her teachers were always talking about. But in her case it was literally what she was seeing.

"You'll be okay, baby," her mother cooed, reaching forward to touch her face with an intangible hand. "You'll come back home. Just listen to your mentor and it'll all be okay."

They'd always treated her like a baby because of her Fantasy World. They'd taught her to ignore the visions so she could at least pretend to be normal. It was all them dancing around the fact that to them she was insane.

But sometimes she wondered which one was actually the real world- the one her parents inhabited, or the Fantasy World.

* * *

District Seven

Rowan sat alone, steepling his fingers and gazing over them moodily at the far wall. No one had come to visit him. He'd expected that at least one or two of the orphans would have braved the Peacekeepers and entered the Justice Building.

It was okay, though. Once he got back, they'd have him as their leader again. They were helpless without him- he was the one that organized them, made them work and garden and chop wood, made them steal food and bring it back to him. They trusted him with their lives. He trusted them no farther than he had to.

But it wasn't as though he had to worry about not coming back to them. He had always gone through life with the belief that his existence had a purpose, that everything he did meant that he was in control. How could he fail to survive this?

* * *

District One

Melinda's little brother, Peter, burst through the door, followed at a slightly slower pace by her parents. Peter fell headlong into her arms, laughing.

"You're gonna be great, Melinda!" the four-year-old giggled, dark blue eyes shining with excitement. "Momma says we'll get to see you on tv an' all that! You'll be famous!"

She laughed and tousled his hair. The kid had no idea what the Hunger Games were about, and yet still he was excited about them. He'd grow up to be just as good of a Career as his sister. "That's right, Peter. I'll be famous."

Her parents beamed down at her. "Don't take unnecessary risks," her father said. "You need to make sure the sponsors like you, too. Shouldn't be too hard."

"Good luck!" her mother added, smiling.

* * *

District Eight

_Should we reveal ourselves to anyone? _Timothy asked, Japanese-accented voice worried.

_We're going to the Hunger Games. We can't trust anyone, _Death replied immediately. _No one. They could easily turn on us. And I will not let anyone hurt Lucy._

_Guys? _This was a new voice, that of a sixteen-year-old girl. It was the first time in a long time she had initiated contact on her own, so the other three reacted with understandable surprise.

_Lucy? _Nyuu said. _Go back to sleep._

_No. It's my body, I was here first. So doesn't that entitle me to a say? _She started out strongly, forcefully, but by the end her voice had a slight pleading note to it.

_It does. _Death was the leader, whatever she said went. _Go ahead._

_The boy. Our District partner. He seems like someone we can trust._

_He seems like an idiot, _Timothy said scornfully. _Muscles Boy can't help us._

_Maybe he can, _Lucy replied stubbornly.

_He could help, it's true. And someone that stupid would be easy to kill in the end, _Death said. _I'll take care of him._

* * *

District Nine

When the man walked in, Caden shot to his feet. He'd been waiting for him to come.

"Take care of my mam and I'll do whatever it takes to get home," he blurted out. The man glanced at him and sat, gesturing that Caden do the same. Reluctantly, he sank into the seat. "Please?" he added belatedly.

"I'm not here about your mother." As usual, the man's raspy voice made Caden want to run away. "I'm here because now the Boss is out a drug dealer and a hired eraser. And while you're expendable, the girl isn't."

"Huh?" Caden blinked, confused.

"The girl. The one that got Reaped with you. She's farther up with us than you are, and we'd like to have such a skilled operative back. So your job is to do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

"No." The word slipped out before he really had time to think about it.

"Excuse me?" The man's eyes glinted threateningly, but Caden stood his ground.

"No. She might be part of your gang but I'm not going to follow your orders. I never asked to get caught up in all this." As far as he could tell, what the man was saying was that the girl- Sheila- was also part of whatever gang the drug supplier was. Maybe the Mafia. There were whispers in District Nine that the Mafia was run by some Capitol man.

"Then expect no help from anyone in the Capitol." The man stood and moved towards the door.

"Fine." He'd regret this later, sure. But he wanted nothing more than to be free of the drug world. And since he was going to die anyways, he didn't have to remain on good terms with the man that held the key to his livelihood.

* * *

District Five

Auden knew he shouldn't be doing this, but something made him stand and crack the door open ever so slightly. The Peacekeeper that was supposed to be guarding his door was off somewhere else, and the hallway was deserted.

He had to know what was up with this girl, his District partner. Taylor.

She was probably in the room next to his. He stole over, feet almost noiseless on the stone floor. Just as he was reaching for the door handle- there was no guard here either, strangely enough- the door swung open.

Two men in white lab coats gazed down at him, one with slicked-back brown hair and dark eyes and the other with light grey hair and a giant smirk on his face.

"Who's this?" the latter asked, smile stretching unnaturally. "A little mouse seems to have lost its way."

The other man raised an eyebrow. Auden backed away, heart pounding. "You're the boy that got Reaped, aren't you?"

"Y-yes..."

"Well, then. Why don't you go back to your room and prepare for your death?" The brown-haired man said it almost gently, but there was an evil glint in his eye that Auden didn't like at all.

"Who are you and what's wrong with Taylor?" His boldness surprised even himself- he couldn't quite believe those words had come out of his mouth.

"We are no one of consequence," the grey-haired one said, with that unnerving smile still on his face.

"Taylor is our lab experiment. I will be very interested to see your interactions with her over the next few days." The brown-haired man sighed. "It will be a pity to lose, such a valuable specimen, will it not, Dr. Gin?"

"Indeed, sir. Most terrible." The grey-haired man didn't seem all that upset. He was still smiling that creepy smile.

"What kind of experiment?" Auden pressed. The scientists exchanged a glance and the second one shrugged as if to indicate a general surrender.

"It won't be classified for much longer. We've lied to her for her entire life," the first said almost proudly. "It's an experiment we began before you were even conceived, boy. A most ingenious human behavior experiment. And seeing her in a life-or-death situation in the real world... it'll be fascinating."

A dark-skinned man with an odd set of clear goggles over his flat, sightless eyes appeared at the end of the hallway. "Doctor Sosuke, Doctor Gin? The Peacekeepers say your time is up."

"Very well." The brown-haired one gave Auden one last, long look. "Good luck, boy. You have the unique privilege of being a part of the biggest experiment District Five has ever seen."

"Have fun dying," the creepy one added.

Auden watched them leave, a look of confusion on his face.

* * *

District Four

Primo's parents had already left, with their usual generic goodbyes and luck-wishing. He had no use for people like that. Too bad they were so weak.

At least they'd produced someone as epic as he was.

The girl- Taristia- she was interesting. She seemed like the kind of sadistic person he could follow. And Primo was all about sitting back and letting others do the hard work.

He smiled calmly, lazily. This would be easy. Too easy. Maybe he'd better take his time, have fun with this.

Primo Nitore was good at taking his time.

* * *

**Liked it? Hope so!**

**Kudos to those who understand the references in Auden's pov (hey, Cronomon~).**


	5. Train Rides: Will You Be My Enemy?

**Train Rides (again, in no particular order)**

* * *

District One

"Yo~"

Cainan Rubin looked up, surprised, to see a grey-haired boy looking down at him. "You're my mentor."

"Ah, a boy with a gift for stating the obvious. I always love to kill those." The boy entered the train compartment fully. "I'm Ferro Rete, Victor of the 98th Games. I'd shake your hand but I would never want such an inferior being such as you to touch me."

Cainan sighed. This mentor-tribute relationship was already off to a wonderful start. "Aren't you supposed to be helping me, not insulting me?"

"And why on earth would I want to help someone as pathetic as you? Either you get through the Games on your own, or you die. That's the way of the Hunger Games." Ferro turned to leave. Cainan shot to his feet and grabbed the taller boy's arm.

Ferro's ice-blue eyes flashed with fury and Cainan found himself flying across the room, crashing into the rack of glasses with a tinkling explosion of noise. Lying amid the shards of glass, he stared up into his mentor's merciless eyes, seething with fury.

"You hate me, don't you?" Ferro noted.

Cainan saw no point in lying. "Yes."

"And I'll bet you want to kill me." Ferro paused. "Let me tell you about you and me. It's like the story of the monkey trying to capture the moon. However close he thinks he is to the moon... it is still just the reflection of the moon in the middle of the lake. No matter how he struggles to capture that 'moon', he inevitably sinks to the bottom of the lake at the end to no avail. Your fangs will never be able to reach me. Ever."

Cainan struggled to keep his fury in check. Despite the fact that he was an arrogant, heartless bastard, Ferro was a Victor. And wasn't afraid of killing.

"Come back when you've won the Hunger Games. Then maybe you'll be worthy of my attention." And with that the grey-haired boy swept out of the compartment.

* * *

District Seven

Quarry paced the dining compartment restlessly, hands clasped behind her back. She didn't like being cooped up in one place for so long. She longed to be outside, to be free and able to do whatever she wanted.

The door squeaked open and she spun. Almost immediately, she relaxed- it was just Rowan, her District partner.

She watched as he made his way to the counter and poured himself a dark gold drink that probably had alcohol in it. There was something in the way that he walked that suggested a purpose, an absolute confidence in his every action. Maybe he would be a good ally in the arena.

"You volunteered," he said suddenly, turning and meeting her stare with eyes greener than the grass on her father's pristine lawn. "Why's that?"

"I was bored." She said it casually, interested in seeing his reaction.

"You're a Career?" It didn't really sound like a question, as Rowan seemed to have made all sorts of judgments about her already.

"Sure am." She grinned. "I was tired of boring ol' District Seven. Figured I might as well learn to fight."

"Despicable."

He said it so calmly that she had to blink a couple times and rewind that a few time before responding. "Excuse me?"

"People like the Careers are disgusting. Killing aimlessly like that. And apparently you're just like them." With that he turned, drink in hand, and exited the dining compartment.

Quarry stared after him, nonplussed. He was one annoying boy.

_I think I'll kill him. _

* * *

District Two

"You're pretty cute."

Elita glanced sideways at Ryder, who was nibbling a pastry. "Am I, now."

"Yep. Wanna go out?"

"I like girls," she replied bluntly.

To his credit, Ryder didn't miss a beat. "In that case, you just keep out of my way. I've got my sights set on that cute girl from One." He gestured to the tv, where a playback of the Reapings was showing a dark-haired girl volunteering.

Elita rolled her eyes and bit into a piece of white bread. Annoying boys like that tended to get hurt.

* * *

District Twelve

"Hey, this pink drink has bubbles in it. How do you suppose they get them in here?" Maxell swirled his drink, entranced by the way the light shone through it.

"You need to be listening to me!" Ollie snapped. "What's our strategy for the arena?"

It was kinda funny how she'd assumed he was going to ally with her. His brother must have talked to her. "Everything here's so sweet. But I guess that everyone gets surgery or something 'cause the Capitol peoples aren't fat."

"Come on!" Ollie grabbed the piece of cake from him. "I want to get home to my sister."

"Then why don't you just go and win?" Maxell grabbed piece of red hard stuff- candy of some sort, no doubt- and tried to bite into it. It was way too hard to chew.

"It's not that easy." Ollie lapsed into sullen silence.

Maxell didn't understand why she was so upset. If you were going to die, you might as well enjoy yourself until then.

Too bad the Peacekeepers had made him leave his pet squirrel at home. Alec would've loved these puffy cream-filled things.

* * *

District Ten

"So the two from One seem like typical Careers. Two and Four, also." Kivuta wore a look of intense concentration as she wrote this down in a little notebook their Escort had provided them. "The boy from Three seems weak."

"He seems like a good kid," Foster protested, quick to see the good in everyone. "He volunteered for his friend, right?"

"Weak." Kivuta frowned. "The girl just looked pissed off. Five girl seems... weird."

Foster couldn't exactly protest this. "But the boy's a nice-looking boy."

"Being nice gets you killed in the Hunger Games. Six seems like a strong boy, don't know what's with the girl..." Kivuta shrugged. "Seven volunteered, so she must be either a Career or really strong or weird."

"Not everyone who volunteers is a Career," Foster noted.

"No kidding," Kivuta noted sardonically.

"Ah. That's right. You volunteered." Awkward.

"Eight is also weird. What's with that boy?"

"Another strong one?" Foster offered weakly.

"Ranting about his muscles. Weird. The girl seems terrified. Weak. Nine... nothing special. There's us. Eleven... hey, that girl looks insane. And the boy also seems pissed off. Twelve...? Normal weaklings."

Foster sighed. Kivuta seemed to be making very superficial judgments about these tributes. That was never a good thing.

* * *

District Three

Fionn glanced at her District partner with an expression of slight disdain. "You're very shy."

"I-I'm sorry...?" Branwell looked away, apparently unsure how to reply to this. Fionn got that a lot.

"You volunteered for your friend. Which wasn't a bad thing to do. You simply lacked conviction, which is terrible. Doing things like that require more of a confidence in your actions."

"I don't..."

"Once you're in the arena you can't afford to be so wishy-washy. That can get you killed." This was Fionn's favorite pastime- telling people how they were wrong and she was right.

"I..."

"Stop stammering and say something intelligible, idiot." She stood, looming over him.

"How dull it is to pause, to make an end!" Branwell blurted, apparently shocked into speech.

Fionn was pleasantly surprised. So the boy could speak, it seemed. "Continue."

"T-to rust unburnished, not to shine in use. As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life- were all too little and of one to me..."

"Poetry, huh?" Fionn nodded. "You're the kind of boy that's only comfortable repeating the words of others as though they were your own. Making do with the things others invented so that you are spared the embarrassment of speaking on your own."

"Th-that's not..."

"Shut up. I'm always right."

* * *

District Eleven

"I... I'm sorry for making fun of your name." Trinya scratched her head, a terrified look on her face. "I, um... well, I wasn't exactly myself."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Pastel snapped. He hated it when people made fun of his name. And to top it all off, that had been the first thing she had said to him. So much for making good impressions on people.

"I hallucinate. I mean, I live in a Fantasy World. I mean." Trinya frowned. "I don't know what I mean."

"That's pretty useless." He was still pissed off at her for making fun of his name.

"So your nickname is Crayola?" she offered, apparently trying to make peace. It didn't work

"Get out of my sight before I stab you." He snatched a knife off the table. She yelped and scurried out of the room.

* * *

District Five

Auden watched Taylor from across the table. The girl was poking a bowl full of pudding, entranced with the way it jiggled. She seemed to have no idea what to do with it.

"You eat it," he offered. She looked up at the sound of his voice but didn't seem to register what he had said. "Eat it," he repeated, picking up a piece of cake and stuffing it into his mouth to demonstrate. "Like this." he galnced at her expectantly.

She promptly dunked her face in the bowl, smearing it with pudding.

"No, no, no," he groaned. He reached across with a napkin to wipe her face and she flinched away. "What's wrong with you? They said you were an experiment... what does that mean?"

"Doctor Sosuke said if some person except him or Doctor Gin touches me, I'll disappear," she whispered. It was the first thing he had heard her say.

"Huh? That's not true!"

She tilted her head to one side. "That's what I said. It's not true."

"...I don't get it."

"It's not true. It's false."

"You mean it's... not true... what?" Auden shook his head, thinking. If she was so confused... could it be that she thought false was true and true was false? "It's true. What you said. You won't disappear if I touch you. See?" He reached out and brushed his fingers against the back of her hand. She shuddered, then blinked with surprise.

"It's true."

"It's false," he corrected, sighing inwardly. This was going to be hard.

* * *

District Six

Fenetre stared into the flame of the candle, smiling slightly. They'd confiscated her lighter when she'd entered the train, which was quite annoying. But then it had turned out that they had these ever so convenient candles everywhere.

She picked up a napkin and held it to the flame, grinning as it was slowly consumed.

"Stop that!" A strong hand grabbed her wrist and forced it away from the fire, dunking the flaming napkin into a nearby pitcher of juice. Fenetre growled and snatched her hand back.

"Dammit, Gavin, what's the matter with you?" she snapped. "Stop being such an uptight bastard!"

"What you do endagers others. It cannot be tolerated in a lawful community!" He looked quite upset by this.

"Aw, screw your justice." Fenetre stood and made her way back to her room. Maybe there were some matches there.

* * *

District Nine

"Psst!" Caden grabbed Sheila's arm as she passed his room, pulling her inside. She snarled, slapping his hand away and straightening up.

"What was that for?" she spat. "Someone like you shouldn't be touching someone like me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Caden looked quite offended. "I just wanted to ask you something. And you've been avoiding me."

It was true. She had been avoiding him, as there was no point in fostering a relationship with him. He wasn't a very strong person. And she didn't plan on trusting anyone enough to ally with them.

"What do you want?"

"Are you with the Mafia?" he asked bluntly.

Despite her emotional control, she was caught quite off-guard by this. How did he know? Unless he was part of it too. "No," she lied instinctively.

"Yes, you are."

"Who told you that?"

"See? You just proved it."

She froze. He was right. "Damn you."

"So you are. What do you do?"

There wasn't really any point in hiding anymore. And maybe it would scare him off. "I'm an eraser. A hired killer."

"Ah..." He did look a bit scared.

And with that she swept out of the room. He was no one she had to worry about. He was pointless and weak and so far below her that she might as well not acknowledge his presence.

Plus she was going to kill him, anyways.

* * *

District Four

"Hey, Tari~"

"Don't call me that!" Taristia snapped, glaring at the dark-haired boy. He was very annoying. And he spoke so slowly.

"All right, TariTari." Primo smiled slowly, as if he knew exactly how much he annoyed her. He probably did, not that she thought about it.

"You pissed me off. So you're going to die."

"You'd never kill someone as awesome as me..."

"Killing your ally before you have to is illogical." Taristia's mentor, Cho Fukushu, appeared out of nowhere. The Victor of the Fourth Quarter Quell frowned down at her tribute.

"You're all annoying!"

"If you say so, captain." Primo grinned.

"Captain...?" Actually, she didn't mind that one so much.

* * *

District Eight

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!" Because that's what Ike says whenever he shows up in a scene.

"Hey." Lucy frowned up at him, an unusually stern look on her face. "We need to tell you something."

"We? Why're you talking in plural? Have you got muscles aw yeah- I mean, voices in your head?"

"...yes, actually." Lucy looked pretty surprised.

"Cool."

"...and that's all you're going to say."

"Sure."

Lucy embarked on a long explanation about how there were four voices in her head- Death who wasn't really Death-death, Timothy, Nyuu, and original Lucy. And how they alternated. And how it was a bit confusing.

Ike tilted his head to one side when she'd finished. "So you've got muscles (aw yeah) in your head that make you do awesome muscle stuff? Aw yeah?"

Lucy gave him a look that clearly said 'what-kinda-idiot-have-I-teamed-up-with'.

Or maybe it just mean MUSCLES. AW. YEAH.

* * *

**I am sincerely sorry for the last few points of view. I don't... even know...**

**Blame it on Cronomon. She was sitting next to me and that kind of randomness happens when she's sitting next to me.**


	6. Parade: Vanity

**Parade (Gamemaker p.o.v.)**

* * *

"I'm bored. When are they coming out?"

Kushana Viserys glanced at her Head Gamemaker. Daenerys was a very childish woman, in her opinion. Playful, whiny, and easy to placate. And yet there was something about her, some evil hidden under that infantile exterior. A darkness that she herself could relate to.

The pre-Games were always a source of slight boredom to her, even when she'd been only watching it on her television at home. Character development, establishment of alliances... and the constant playacting, as if angle would help at all once the children were thrust into the arena to brawl it out until one emerged with bloodstained hands and a haunted look in their eyes.

She loved seeing the despair in the Victor's faces as they were lifted out of the arena.

"Who do you like so far?" Rowena was asking Merete. The energetic twin was, as always, flushed with excitement. Her sister provided a most interesting point of contrast- Regina was slumped over, asleep on Alyza's shoulder. The purple-haired woman didn't seem too happy about this but looked a bit scared to move the taller woman.

"The Careers are interesting," Azuki cut in. "They're usually the ones that win, anyways, so we ought to keep an eye on them."

"That's hardly true." Sansa frowned. "I'd hardly expect a peasant like you to understand such things, but simply because the Careers are most likely to make it into the top five hardly means that they will win. There have been several instances in which non-Careers have won."

"Well, aren't you the smart one." Azuki was probably just jealous that she hadn't been the one to make such an astute observation.

Isis adjusted her glasses. "W-well, even if a C-career w-on, n-no one'd be surprised, huh?" she stammered.

"But look at who we've got this year," Rowena pressed. "Two rather violent girls eager to get into fights. A boy that's been trained by his grandfather since he was young. A boy that's being mentored by Ferro Rete."

"Which is always a plus, I suppose," Alyza muttered sarcastically from a few seats down.

"Just 'cause you don't like him doesn't mean everyone else hates him, too," Azuki pointed out.

"Ferro's awesome~" Dany cut in, looking up from her cake.

"He is," Merete agreed, scratching her head. "Though I don't really know why."

"Anyways. There's also a sadistic girl, her district partner who seems to be willing to follow her lead, and a random non-Career that might be joining." Rowena shrugged. "Sounds pretty good to me."

"There's a Mafia girl," Dany noted, apparently randomly. Alyza glared at her.

"Are you ever going to pay attention for real? You're a pretty sucky Head Gamemaker."

Dany only grinned and sipped her tea. "Noted."

"Kushana, what do you think?" Azuki turned to the only person who had not spoken thus far.

"Considering the arena we have this year, I would hardly expect the Careers to have much of an advantage. And either way there will be much bloodshed, and I will be happy," Kushana replied quietly.

"Well put~" Dany grinned. Everyone else looked a bit freaked out, except Regina, who continued sleeping.

* * *

Merete was quite glad that they were sitting down, as otherwise she'd have surely made a fool of herself, tripping over her own feet or some other such thing. And she'd never seen the parade from so close- the Gamemakers got a special box all to themselves.

But it was also a bit uncomfortable, as Regina was asleep in her shoulder.

"Here they come!" Rowena cheered. Merete found it amusing that Regina and Rowena looked so alike and yet one was a bubbly, energetic woman and the other slept all the time.

District One entered in a chariot pulled by snow white horses. The boy wore a golden chainmail-outfit that glittered as he waved to the crowd, a typically-Career like look on his face. The girl wore a golden dress that streamed out behind her as if caught in some wind, with long peacock feathers in her hair.

Dany switched on the hidden microphone they had in the chariot and the Gamemakers leaned in to listen.

"Wave to the crowd, Melinda," Cainan was encouraging. "Sponsors, remember?"

"We'll get enough of those." But the girl waved anyways, forcing a smile onto her face that even Merete could tell was fake.

District Two entered and a few female members of the audience started screaming. The boy, Ryder, was dressed in black pants and chains and nothing else. His bare torso, well-muscled and tan, gleamed under the lights.

"Not bad," Dany commented. "If I was straight, I might go for that."

His district partner wore a black jumpsuit with chains crossing over her chest. There were knives strapped to her arms and legs and a reluctant smile on her face.

"Too bad she's not shirtless, too."

"Dany, shut up."

In the chariot, Ryder and Elita weren't talking. That was actually pretty normal.

The next chariot rolled in to gasps from the crowd. The District Three girl wore what looked like a few wires woven into a mini-skirt and a bikini top- i.e. not very much. The boy was in a skin-tight silver suit with wires running up and down its length. Both of them were shooting off green and blue sparks.

"Considering the fact that these Capitol idiots have no idea what they're doing, I'm surprised we're still alive," Fionn said. "All these open wires... I mean, there's a high probability of electrocution from this."

"They probably know what they're doing..."

"Right. No." Fionn looked pretty uncomfortable. "Got any quotes for me?"

"Vanity of vanities; all is vanity. What profit hath a man of all his labor which he taketh under the sun? _One_ generation passeth away, and _another _generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever."

"What's that supposed to imply?"

"N-nothing..."

District Four's chariot entered and Merete frowned. A soldier and a... mermaid. Because District Four fished for... mermaids.

"I'm a dog of the military, captain. Cool, no?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Taristia didn't seem very happy in her sparkling scales and sleeveless, semi-see-through top.

"A dog. Of the military." Primo snapped his fingers, grinning slightly.

"...if you say so."

The District Five boy looked like a robot of some sort in his plate metal outfit with glowing green highlights. His partner was in a silver dress vaguely modeled after the power plant workers of the district. She seemed very confused as to what she was supposed to be doing.

"Wave, Taylor," Auden encouraged.

She frowned. He lifted her hand and waved it for her.

District Six's chariot was flashing, little white lights blinking on and off. The tributes in the chariot almost blended in- black suit and dress with the same little lights running up and down them. Fenetre seemed pretty happy to be there, waving energetically at the crowd, but her District partner was a bit more sullen.

"Cheer up, Gavin!"

"Everyone here is just waiting for us to die. What's the point?"

The two children from District Seven were covered in little wood chips. It actually didn't look that bad- golden-brown and reddish wood shimmering under the lights. The tributes seemed to hate each other, though, and refused to even look at each other.

"I'm a Roman god with MUSCLES AW YEAH!" Ike shouted as his chariot rolled out. His golden cloak streamed out behind him as he stood there, striking a pose that showed off his muscles. The shirtless District Two boy from earlier paled in comparison. His partner was wrapped in glowing wire, holding a ball of light that sent little beams everywhere, illuminating them both.

"Nice contrast there," Azuki noted to Isis.

"Y-yes... it is..."

Both tributes from Nine were dressed in a normal looking dress and suit- old fashioned, classic. But their hats were made of grain, casting rippling light onto their outfits so they seemed travelers from a land out of time.

Or something like that.

District Ten wore gold and grey, and waved to the crowd cheerfully. The girl wore a headband that sparkled like crazy under the lights.

"This is actually kinda fun!" the girl noted.

"Sure is, Kivuta." Foster grinned at her. "Want to hold hands so they'll cheer even louder?"

"Sure!" She grabbed his hand and blew a kiss to the crowd.

The District Eleven boy wore a plaid t-shirt, ripped at the ends to show off his muscles (though Ike's were still bigger). He carried a large axe that looked real enough, though it was probably plastic, judging from how easily he carried it. The girl was dressed up as an apple. And she didn't seem very excited about it.

"Why did you get a cool outfit?" Trinya muttered to Pastel. "District Eleven doesn't even cut down trees. District Seven does."

"Shows how much you know," Pastel snapped. "How else do you think they get rid of the dead and dying trees in the fields? Axemen are a valuable resource."

"Those are pretty lame costumes," Dany noted.

"For once, I agree with you," Alyza sighed.

District Twelve seemed to have gone with the usual coal dust, though this was actually a pretty nice way of doing so. The two tributes seemed to shimmer as they moved, covered in loose folds of deep black fabric and dusted in iridescent black powder that was probably supposed to be coal dust. Not that Merete had ever seen coal dust that pretty.

"Oliver, lookit the lady with the blue hair. How do you suppose it got that way? Do you think she was born that way? Maybe that's normal in anime- I mean, in the Capitol." Maxell grinned.

"It's Ollie. And shut up and wave, please." The girl didn't seem to like her partner very much.

"And thus the Hunger Games begin!" Dany grinned at her Gamemakers, turning her back on the parade ring. "Anyone want some tea?"

* * *

**By the way, exams are coming up. So I will NOT update until afterwards, in a few weeks. Sorry about that. And there's an outline for the pre-Games chapters on my profile under the tribute list if you want to check that out. Just so you know what's coming up next, ne?**

**Out of curiosity, what was your favorite costume?**


	7. Training Day One: Certain Death

**Training Day One**

* * *

"Wake up!" Ollie kicked Maxell's door open and stormed in, yanking the curtains open. Harsh sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating her District partner. The sandy haired boy stirred and groaned.

"Get up, dammit!" She grabbed a handful of blanket and pulled, throwing the silk sheet to the ground and exposing the thirteen-year-old. He covered his head with his pillow and she rolled her eyes.

"You already missed breakfast. And if you don't hurry up, we'll be late for training. Don't you realize how serious this is?"

Maxell rolled over. "I missed breakfast? That's terrible!" His eyes drifted closed.

"You idiot!" She grabbed his shoulders and shook his back awake. "If I die in the arena, it's your fault!"

"Then why don't you just let me sleep and go train by yourself?" he asked in an uncharacteristically clear voice. "Let me die."

She stepped away, frustration making her clench her fists. "Your brother asked me to take care of you!" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

He looked at her, blue eyes bright. "I know. So?" He brushed back his hair with the stump of his left hand and she realized exactly how helpless he would be, alone in the arena. Just as helpless as her little sister would be if she had been reaped.

"So... maybe I don't think anyone should have to lose a sibling."

"Well, that sucks. Because everyone that goes into the Hunger Games dies. Even the Victor doesn't really come out alive. And they get sold anyways, so they don't even own what little life they have left. The Hunger Games kills everything it touches." Maxell yawned. "Certain death doesn't interest me. But squirrels do."

Ollie blinked. She'd never really thought of it that way. "Are you saying that it's better to die than to win?"

"Maybe." He turned over and fell back asleep.

* * *

Kivuta hurried down the stairs, pulling on the jacket that her Escort had given her. She was late already, late to training that might end up saving her life in the arena. This wasn't a good thing. If she was going to get back and rub her victory in her stepmother's face, she had to learn these survival skills and weapons.

She burst in and skidded to a halt. The training room was only half-full. Most of the tributes weren't even there yet.

_Well. Then I'll just get a head start._ She started towards the bow and arrows station, determined to learn everything she could.

"Hey, lookit the little non-Career, trying to learn stuff," a lazy voice said tauntingly.

She whirled. The dark-haired boy from District Four- Primo?- was leaning against a nearby table, a small smirk on his face. "What do you want?"

"Surely if that kind of knowledge could be acquired in three measly days you'd already have spent three days of your life acquiring it? It's so much fun to see people like you struggle." He smiled slowly.

Kivuta stared at him, fury slowly rising in her. How had he known exactly how to hit her right there, where she was most insecure? He was right- if she could learn to do this at all, why hadn't she before? And what were the chances of her actually learning anything useful?

She shook this off. Jerk Careers like this couldn't bother her. "Well. Maybe slow people like you can't comprehend this, but there's a lot you can learn in a few days." She turned and did her best to saunter off, hoping that that had been a suitably awesome burn.

"I'm so hurt, Ten. You wound me. Oh wait- you can't. Because you don't know how to use any weapons~" Primo called after her.

_Damn him._

* * *

Foster watched his District partner stalk off to the knife throwing station and pick up a blade. The Career that had taunted her retreated back to where his District partner and the other Careers were waiting, still smiling that slow, disturbing smile.

"Kivuta!" He hurried over, a grin on his face. "What's up?"

"Go 'way." She swiped a hand across her face, trying to hide the fact that she'd been crying.

"Aw, c'mon, it's okay. He's just a jerk. You can't listen to what he says." Foster grabbed her arms, turning her and forcing her to make eye contact. "We're gonna train, and we're gonna get really far in the arena! Okay?"

"And I'll win." She smiled at him and turned towards a new station. "I mean, sorry that you have to die and all. But I'm gonna win."

"Um, okay..." He tried to smile. She was rather blunt. He followed her to the knot-tying station, where the District Six boy already stood, holding a few pieces of rope.

"I'm Kivuta," she was saying as Foster joined them.

"Gavin." He nodded towards Foster. This Gavin person was a few inches taller than Foster, with huge, muscled arms. His voice was deep and he had a very serious expression on his tan face.

"And my name's Foster." The District Ten boy smiled at Gavin. It was a personal goal of his to be nice to everyone. Even the really mean overseers back at Cody's Ranch. "Do you know how to work these?" He gestured to the diagrams of various knots that hung above the station.

"...no." Gavin shrugged. "I don't have much occasion to use them in my line of work."

"What do you do?" Kivuta asked.

"I'm a bouncer. At the local bar."

Foster could practically hear the gears turning in Kivuta's head. Bouncer equaled very strong and very intimidating. Strong and intimidating was always a good thing to have on your side in the arena. Especially if you were someone relatively small and weak, like Kivuta.

He wasn't very surprised when the next words out of his District partner's mouth were, "Want to hang out with us for the next few days? Maybe there's some things we can teach each other."

Gavin paused to consider this, then nodded. "Sure."

* * *

Cainan leaned against the rack of spears, gazing at his alliance. The Careers were an interesting group this year, that much was obvious.

There was his District partner, Melinda, who was currently huddled over the array of weapons, conversing intently with the District Two girl, Elita. The two of them had struck up a friendship almost immediately, much to Ryder's apparent dismay. The District Two boy spent most of his time trying to flirt with Melinda, with very little success.

Primo, the District Four boy, seemed to be taking a nap. The dark haired boy was quite lazy, barely seeming to move. He also talked so slowly that Cainan sometimes lost track of what he was saying halfway through his sentence. But there was no denying that he had some sort of weapons training.

Cainan felt someone's gaze on him and turned to the last one there. Taristia, the District Four girl, was staring at him with an inscrutable look in her brown eyes. The shorter girl had scared even him a bit on their first encounter. She was spiteful, violent, and willing to do anything to gain control. No one had stood in her way to becoming the leader of the Careers.

He had kind of wanted to lead this alliance. Ferro, his mentor, had done so and had won. So maybe that was the best way to victory.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

He turned. A girl with wide brown eyes and a small smiled on her face stood there, arms crossed, looking him up and down.

"Who're you?" he asked.

"Quarry Wainwright. District Seven."

"And why are you bothering us?" Taristia asked, stepping forward. By now all the Careers were looking at the newcomer, even Primo, who actually opened his eyes.

"I think you should let me join you." Quarry's eyes flicked over the group, settling on Taristia. She seemed to have picked out who was the leader fairly quickly. Impressive.

"Why's that?" Taristia snapped. "Some weakling we don't even know? That's stupid."

Quarry's eyes flashed with anger. "You let anyone from One, Two, or Four in with barely a second thought, but when someone just as qualified- hell, I'm probably more qualified than most Careers- tries to join you refuse just because of where they're born? If _that_ isn't the stupidest thing I've ever heard, then I don't know what is."

Cainan flinched, expecting Taristia to lash out. Instead something that might have been respect appeared in the District Four girl's brown eyes. "Three days. You have the rest of training to prove that you're worthy of joining us."

Quarry looked satisfied. "Deal." She held her hand out and Taristia shook it.

_Well, looks like our group just got a bit more interesting_, Cainan thought, shaking his head slightly.

* * *

"Hey, you're Rowan, right?"

He turned. The District Six girl stood a few feet away, a smile on her face. "What do you want?" he drawled, purposely putting a bit of contempt into his voice.

"What? I just wanted to say hi." She smiled. "I'm Fenetre, by the way."

"Yeah?" He turned back to the pile of wood in front of him- he was learning how to build a campfire.

"Oh, oh, I'm really good at that!" she said, grinning and snatching the matches from his hands. "See?" She struck the box, the sharp scent of sulpher rising from the match. She touched the small flame to a pile of birch bark and clapped her hands as it caught, tendrils of black smoke curling up to the ceiling.

"Go away." He turned his back on her.

"There's no need to be so mean~" She struck another match and stared at it, watching it burn.

"What are you, some kind of pyro?" He looked her up and down slowly. "Go away."

"Fine." She stalked away, still holding the box of matches.

He watched her walk away. If this hadn't been the Hunger Games, he might have actually considered a friendship with her. But that kind of thing was useless in the arena. He would do best on his own.

He had no need of anyone else here. He would win this on his own.

* * *

"Hey, wait up!" Melinda hurried towards the elevator, holding a hand up. Elita pressed a button, keeping the doors open just long enough for the District One girl to slip through.

"What's up?" Elita asked.

"I just wanted to keep talking with you." Melinda pressed the button labeled '1' and leaned back against the wall of the elevator, looking Elita up and down. The District Two girl was tall and slim, with tan limbs and smooth skin. Her short brown hair was slightly sweaty from the rope climbing contest she and Melinda had had earlier that day.

"What?" Elita glared at her and Melinda realized she'd been staring. Blushing, she looked away.

"N-nothing." Damn. Usually she wasn't this emotional. She'd been raised by people who had taught that emotions were a sign of weakness. What was it about Elita that got this kind of reaction from her?

The elevator doors swished open and Melinda realized that they were at her floor already. Before she could second-guess herself, she turned to Elita and blurted, "Why don't you come hang out with me?"

Elita hesitated before nodding. "Sure." She followed Melinda into the dark floor.

"So what do you think of our chances this year?" Melinda asked, flicking the lightswitch to reveal luxurious carpeting and a table set with leftover food. "I mean, as an alliance."

"Good as ever. We're Careers." Elita looked annoyed. Melinda had noticed that the District Two girl was much more prone to anger when she wasn't training.

There was something captivating about those turquoise blue eyes when Elita was angry.

She realized she was staring again. "So. Your District partner. Ryder. He kept on trying to flirt with me today."

"Yes. He thinks you're cute. Why, do you like him?" Was it just her, or was there a hint of jealousy in her voice?

"The Hunger Games are not a place for love," she replied automatically, reciting words that had been pounded into her since she was a young child. _Love gets you killed in the arena. Friendship leads to stupid decisions. If you want to win you must sever all ties with the other tributes. Emotion is a weakness._

She'd truly believed that. Until now.

"Is that true?" Elita's eyes flashed.

"I don't know." Melinda was suddenly very aware of how close they were, of how quiet the room was. How she could almost hear Elita's heartbeat.

Elita seemed to realize the same thing. "I'd better go." She spun and hurried towards the elevator, jamming her finger on the button. She glanced back one last time and met Melinda's eyes. An odd thrill ran through the District One girl.

"Good night," Elita said. The elevator door squeaked shut.

"Good night," Melinda whispered to the empty room.

* * *

**Alliances so far (not at all a final list):**

**Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Elita/Primo/Taristia/(possibly Quarry)**

**Foster/Kivuta/Gavin**

**Ollie/Maxell**

**Rowan (loner)**


	8. Training Day Two: Watching You

**Randomly deciding to post twice today. Exams are over! Yay!**

**Training Day Two**

* * *

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!"

"God, do you ever shut up?" Lucy glared at Ike, silver eyes hard. Ike had found out that this meant that her Death personality was in charge. If it wasn't for the eye color changes, it would be absolutely impossible to tell who Lucy was at the moment.

"With muscles (aw yeah) this awesome, how could I ever shut up about them?" Ike grinned at the small girl. He had decided to forgo the usual shirt that one wore during training. This drew disapproving glares from most of the Capitol station managers (though some of the watching Gamemakers looked amused).

"You're quite stupid." But there was an amused light in DeathLucy's eyes.

"Hey, Eight."

Ike and Lucy both turned. A smirking Career stood a few feet away, looking at Ike with an appreciative expression.

"What do you want?" DeathLucy asked.

"I'm Ryder. And you're Ike, right?" He completely ignored Lucy. Ike felt the small girl tense at his side, annoyed at this rudeness.

"Sure am." Ike grinned.

"You look pretty strong. Want to join us?" Ryder asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The Careers." Ryder glanced scornfully at Lucy. "You'd have to leave the weakling behind, of course. She looks like a bloodbath anyways."

DeathLucy's eyes flashed with fury, but Ike's fist was faster. The District Two boy went flying, literally blasted off his feet by the force of Ike's punch. The training room went very quiet.

"Thanks for that." Lucy's eyes had changed color- blue. This was Timothy speaking.

Ike grinned. "No prob. How about I just punch anyone that insults you, huh? Punch 'em with my MUSCLES-"

"Shut up!" Lucy snapped, eyes flashing silver. At the look of disappointment on Ike's face, DeathLucy relented. "Fine. But do it quietly."

"...aw...yeah..." Ike whispered.

* * *

"Damn, Ryder, looks like you got beaten up by Eight~" Primo said slowly, yawning.

"Shut up." Ryder glared at the District Four boy, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by the black eye that was slowly rising on his face from Ike's punch. "That was against the rules, anyways, fighting with another tribute. I hope he gets in serious trouble for that."

"Are you such a weakling that you have to hide behind some Capitol rules?" Taristia snapped. "Careers are better than that. So what if he punched you? What are you going to do about it?"

"Kill him," Ryder replied immediately.

Taristia looked satisfied. Primo smirked. That had been the captain's goal with that little comment- seeing if he was strong enough to reply correctly. Looked like Primo wasn't the only one with a brain here.

His District partner turned on the two girls that were chatting a few feet away. "If you two want to start flirting and actually come discuss strategy with us, I'd be much obliged."

Melinda flushed bright red, but Elita glared at Taristia.

"Shut up. I'm so tired of you ordering us around. Why have you got to be such an over-controlling bitch?"

_Oh. That wasn't a smart thing to say._ Primo watched with amusement as Taristia's eyes darkened with fury. This was worth staying awake for.

"Care to say that again, Two?"

"I'll say it again, sure. And maybe I'll use smaller words this time so you'll understand, you idiotic little-" Elita never had time to finish her statement. Taristia's hand flew through the air, cracking against the blue eyed girl's jaw.

"Never disrespect me like that," Taristia snapped. "Get out of here."

"What?" For the first time, a bit of apprehension appeared in Elita's eyes.

"Get out of my alliance. You're not welcome here anymore."

The District Two girl's face twisted with anger. "Fine." Elita turned and walked away, head held high. But Primo had seen the tears glittering in those exquisite turquoise eyes.

_Most amusing. And it's all going just as I predicted it would, too~ _He leaned back, wondering how the others would react. Cainan didn't say a word. In fact, Primo had almost forgotten he was there until now.

"Lita!" Melinda called, stepping forward. Taristia's hand fastened around the taller girl's arm, yanking her back so the District Four girl could whisper into Melinda's ear.

"Follow her and you won't be welcome here either."

Melinda hesitated, torn. Primo could see the warring emotions on her face- would she follow her friend or stick with the Career alliance? It was fairly obvious which was the better choice in terms of survival chances, just as it was obvious which the District One girl would choose.

Primo wasn't very surprised when Melinda wilted, backing away. "Okay."

"She deserves to die, doesn't she?" Taristia shook Melinda. "Say it."

"Sh-she deserves to die," Melinda choked out, looking at the ground, struggling to control herself.

_Aw, captain, no need to be so cruel. She gets it._ Primo's smile widened.

"And don't you ever forget it." Taristia grinned, struck by another thought. "In fact, I hereby bestow upon you the honor of being the one to kill her when we hunt her down."

The pain on Melinda's face as she turned away made Primo chuckle. "Nicely played, captain."

"Do you think so?" Taristia graced him with a small smile.

_You're a tricky one, captain. I'll be watching you. But soon it'll be all too obvious to you that you've been playing my game all along._

He closed his eyes. It seemed like a good time to take a nap.

* * *

"Now she really has no choice but to let me into your alliance," Quarry informed Ryder, hands on her hips and a smile on her face. "Now that your District partner is gone, you guys need me more than ever."

"Don't let her hear you saying that. I don't think she'd react very well." Ryder cast an amused glance over at the District Seven girl. "But I personally wouldn't mind having someone like you in our group."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" She gave him a suggestive smile.

"Well, maybe you'll find out~"

She smirked. Ryder was flirting with her. That meant he was pretty much wrapped around her little finger, as long as she reciprocated. That was one member of the alliance on her side, at least.

* * *

Pastel had ditched her the first day, claiming that he worked alone and wanted no part of her. Trinya suspected that that had more to do with her insulting his name than any real strategy on his part.

So now she was huddled in a corner, pretending to play with a plant id handheld game. In reality, she was trying to hide from all the other tributes. In her current stressed-out state, they all seemed like big, horned demons, intent on killing her.

Sometimes the Fantasy World was very scary.

"Hey, you're Trinya, right?" A hand descended on her shoulder.

She yelped and spun, heart pounding. A golden boy stood there, glimmering in the sunlight. That probably wasn't how he looked in real life, but according to the Fantasy World he was just a moving statue.

_That's really weird. _

"I'm Foster," the golden boy said.

She smiled at him. As long as she tried to pretend that she wasn't hallucinating, maybe they'd be nice to her. Maybe she'd be able to get into an alliance and survive at least past the first day. "Yeah, I'm Trinya. Nice to meet you." She forced out her best smile.

"Want to come hang out with us?" He gestured to where two other stood, a girl and a boy. To her eyes, the girl was a harsh orange color, wispy like some kind of spirit. The boy looked like a solid boulder. Literally.

_Well. No one ever said hallucinations had to make any kind of sense._

"Sure!" She pushed back the overwhelming sensory input from the Fantasy World as best she could and followed Foster towards his group.

* * *

_Now I'm literally going to die. This isn't even funny. _Elita sat in front of the archery station, holding her head in her hands and struggling to fight back tears. _God, why do I always have to let my stupid mouth run like that? And now I can't even talk to Melinda..._

Melinda, the District One girl. The one who had caught her eye since the very first day. Even Evelyn hadn't ever made her feel quite this way. And now she couldn't even spend what little time she had left with her.

"You alright?"

She looked up into a pair of vibrant green eyes framed by fiery red hair. "Who're you?" she blurted.

"Gosh, that's not very polite. But I'm Fenetre. You're the District Two girl, aren't you? I saw you getting slapped by that bitch from Four. That was pretty mean of her. Wait, does that mean that you got kicked out of the Careers? That sucks. But that means I can hang out with you without getting, like, mauled by Four. Right?" She said all of this very quickly, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Elita blinked. "...what?"

"What's your name?"

"Elita." She stood and brushed some nonexistent dust off her clothes. "Look, it's nice of you to come talk to me and all, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to be caught chatting it up with someone Taristia's marked for killing."

"But hasn't Four decided to kill us all anyways? I mean, she wants to win, right?" Fenetre shrugged. "I don't really care about that kinda thing."

"You don't care about winning?" What kind of weirdo had she found?

"Nope~"

"Then what do you care about?" Elita asked, honestly confused.

"Fire."

"Well." Elita blinked. That was unexpected.

"Yeah. Fire. And explosions. One day I wanted to create an explosion big enough to encompass all of District Six. Big enough so they could see it from the land over the ocean!" Fenetre grinned, apparently unaware of exactly how psychopathic that made her sound. "But now that I'm in the Hunger Games, I probably won't ever get to do that."

Elita found herself liking this girl. "Well, then. I guess we can hang out for now. But once we get into the arena I suppose I'll kill you."

* * *

Caden found that watching other people was something he was good at. Having been a drug dealer (however unwillingly) for as long as he had been, he knew how to see into people's souls, see what they really wanted.

The only person he really couldn't see into was his District partner. Sheila, the hired killer for the Mafia. What went on in that mind of hers was a complete mystery.

She also scared him quite a bit. Which was why he was here, on the opposite side of the room from her, lurking in the shadows and watching the others.

There was the Career group, as loud and boisterous as usual, doing their best to intimidate the others. But there was something wrong with them. There was something in the way they regarded the leader, the District Four girl, that implied that they were not as content with her leadership as she seemed to think.

The District Four boy, on the other hand, seemed to be doing the same thing as Caden was: watching the others. There was a calculating look in those dark eyes that creeped Caden out just a little.

The biggest non-Career alliance was the one with District Ten in it- the girl that had volunteered to spite her stepmother, as she had proclaimed often. To Foster's surprise, Sheila seemed to be training with them. The way the girl stood, that menacing air, made her seem like a wolf among sheep. Caden didn't envy those others their fate. Sheila was certain to kill them within the first few days.

Then there was the comedy duo, Ike and Lucy. Such an odd combination. But it was obvious that the muscular boy was completely devoted to the little girl.

And the other District alliances: Ollie and Maxell, Auden and Taylor. Taylor was an odd one- he could tell that she had some mental problems. Auden had said something about her being a lab experiment. Caden wasn't sure what that meant.

_Well, I probably won't make it too far. _Though if he did win... if he could survive this... he would never have to sell drugs again. The man would leave him alone. He could support his mother without resorting to dealing.

But he didn't dare hope for that.

* * *

**Eye color code for Lucy's four different personalities: silver= Death, blue=Timothy, gold=Nyuu, green=Lucy (core persona). Just so it's easier to keep track of them.**

**Alliances so far (not at all a final list):**

**Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Primo/Taristia/(possibly Quarry)**

**Ike/Lucy**

**Foster/Kivuta/Gavin/Trinya/Sheila**

**Ollie/Maxell**

**Rowan (loner)**

**Elita (kicked out of Careers)/Fenetre**

**Pastel (loner)**

**Caden (loner)**

**Auden/Taylor**


	9. Training Day Three: Insanity and Genius

**Training Day Three**

* * *

Everyone here really pissed Pastel off.

The mere fact that he had been reaped at all in the first place was plenty cause for annoyance- how dare they causally condemn to death such a valuable person as him? Wasn't he the best axeman in District Eleven? He was one of only six. That was enough of a reason to spare him.

But no. They had to reap _him_.

Stupid Escort.

He threw another axe, nodding with satisfaction as it thudded into the wall. He'd tried chopping down a few of the stations that first day. The Capitol supervisors had put a stop to that, much to his annoyance. If he wanted to chop things down, they'd better let him do so.

Pastel had decided to not ally with anyone. Everyone annoyed him too much for him to be able to deal with them.

And as long as he could get his hands on an axe at the cornucopia, he'd be fine. No one could stand against him then.

* * *

"Stop following me around," Fionn snapped, spinning around. Branwell froze, caught in the act.

"I..."

"Why do you ever bother? I don't want to ally with you. Are you just too much of a social loser to be able to go make some other friends?" She shook her head. "That must be it."

"You're interesting."

"Excuse me?"

Branwell flushed a blotchy red. "Y-you're interesting. That's why I'm following you."

A spike of anger made her turn away. So he was just following her because he found her interesting, huh? She didn't like that. She didn't like the thought of someone watching her, analyzing her like that.

_And why is that? _something in her whispered. _Is it because you're afraid of what he might find?_

She pushed this away. "Can you go? You're really annoying me."

"Don't you want to hear me quote some more poetry? You seemed fine with that yesterday."

"So? You're seriously getting on my nerves now."

He ignored her. "Death closes all, but something ere the end,- some work of noble note may yet be done,- not unbecoming men that strove with gods..."

"Why's it always men? Why not women?" She turned, frowning. "Women are strong, too. In fact, there have been more female Victors than male since the Mockingjay Rebellion."

"But more males make it into the top ten," Branwell pointed out.

"So? It's winning that counts, you idiot. Who cares if you placed twenty-fourth or second? You're dead either way." She realized belatedly that he had gotten her to have another conversation with him. And he still hadn't gone away.

"Placing second would be bad. You'd get so close and then die. But I think as long as you're in the arena, you're more alive than you were before. Because you know you're going to die." He gave her a small smile. "Living is all the brighter for the knowledge of death. Right?"

"Was that another quote?" she asked.

He shrugged, a knowing smile on his face.

_Damn him. Why do I feel like every time I talk to him he wins?_

* * *

"This is a knife, Taylor." Auden held it out, letting her take the slim silver blade from his hands and turn it over and over in her pale fingers, washed out eyes fixed on the way the light gleamed on its deadly length.

She pricked her finger on the end and yelped as a drop of ruby red blood welled up. She held it out for Auden to see. He shook his head.

"Hurts, doesn't it? So if someone comes after you with a knife, run away. Okay?" He took the weapon from her. "Or hit them with it. Like this." He mimed striking out at the empty air with the knife. "Otherwise they'll kill you."

"Kill you?" Taylor repeated, tilting her head to one side.

"End your life. Um. Make you stop breathing and eating and talking. So you... disappear." He really wasn't sure why he was wasting his time explaining basic concepts to her when he should be training for the arena. But he couldn't just abandon her. "It's called death."

"Death." She considered this. "I do not want to experience... death. It sounds... boring."

"Eh. Something like that." So far he'd been able to re-teach her enough to be able to communicate on a basic level. But he still had no idea what was going on behind those pale eyes. He supposed that was part of why he was still with her- he wanted to find out more.

* * *

Fenetre found Elita very interesting. On the one hand she was a very volatile Career that seemed to explode with the slightest provocation. But put her into a training situation and she was immediately calm and collected, turquoise eyes intense and an uncharacteristically serious expression on her face.

Like right now.

Elita was currently sparring with some of the robotic dummies they had set up in one corner. There were three of them, all set to the highest level, and she was dismembering them with frightening ease. Fenetre watched her spin and flip through the air with deadly grace and wondered exactly why she was allied with her.

_She doesn't need me. She could win this on her own if she really wanted to._

Maybe the District Two girl saw it as a form of rebellion against Four. You know, getting kicked out of the Careers and promptly allying with a random District Six girl.

Though it didn't really seem like Four cared much anymore. The Careers were off to the side, laughing about something (probably some morbid joke about people dying, that seemed like appropriate Career humor) and Four didn't look like she had a care in the world.

Fenetre caught Melinda, the District One girl, staring at Elita with an expression of sadness and longing. She turned away, anger rising in her.

_Dammit, you let Four walk all over and then kick her out. You have no right to look at her like that. She's allied with me now. You didn't even help her. If you really cared you'd have followed her away._

She wasn't even sure why she was getting so possessive of Elita here. Surely these feelings rising in her weren't jealousy, right? What did it matter that Elita probably met up with Melinda at night to do whatever it was they did? She shouldn't care.

And yet she did.

* * *

"Hey, captain?"

Taristia turned. She'd almost forgotten that Primo was there, as her District partner seemed to be asleep. She could see now that he was actually watching everything through half-closed lids, eyes glittering slightly under his long lashes.

"What do you want?"

"Are we actually letting Seven in?" he asked, still speaking in that slow tone that annoyed her so much.

"Why wouldn't we?" she snapped, solely because he seemed to be implying that she should not be and she hated having to agree with him.

"I was only asking..." He grinned as if he knew exactly what was going through her head.

"She's strong enough. Someone like that might be helpful. And now that Elita's gone, we might need someone else."

"Because Melinda isn't about to stop mooning after Elita and actually listen to you." Primo considered this, taking his time. "It's actually... quite amusing."

"Do you always talk so slowly? It annoys me," Taristia snapped. He smirked.

"Does it, now?" Primo nodded as if storing this information away.

* * *

"Look, I think we should send someone strong into the bloodbath. Have them get supplies and then meet us somewhere farther away where we can regroup." Foster shrugged. "There's no point in risking all of us the first day."

"And if that one person dies? We'll be stuck with no food and no supplies," Kivuta snapped.

"So we follow the Careers," Trinya suggested. "We steal food. Don't tributes do that all the time?"

Kivuta sighed, rolling her eyes. "That only works with a loner or a small alliance. All five of us trying to survive off of stolen food? It'll never work."

"I'm strong. I can go into the bloodbath," Gavin noted.

"But you don't understand, that's just not a smart idea..."

Sheila tuned out her allies' argument. Them being so concerned with how to survive was ridiculous when she was in their midst. They had no idea that she was planning to murder them all the first night. And they wouldn't figure it out until her knife was slicing through their flesh. Innocents never suspected the worst of others.

In a way, she was grateful for her experience with taking lives. The Hunger Games would be nothing compared to that. She was under no kind of delusion that she was going to win this, but she did know that she stood a much better chance than most of the others here. More than these blind idiots, that was for sure.

"What do you think, Sheila?" Kivuta turned to her fellow girl, a look on her face that seemed to beg for support.

"I think we should just kill people." She added a sweet smile (completely fake, of course) just to see their freaked out faces.

She couldn't wait to kill them.

* * *

**Alliances so far (still not quite a final list):**

**Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Primo/Taristia/Quarry**

**Ike/Lucy**

**Foster/Kivuta/Gavin/Trinya/Sheila**

**Ollie/Maxell**

**Rowan (loner)**

**Elita/Fenetre**

**Pastel (loner)**

**Caden (loner)**

**Auden/Taylor**

**Fionn/Branwell (possibly)**


	10. Private Sessions: Impress Me

**Private Sessions**

* * *

"Are you nervous?" Quarry teased, poking Ryder's arm. The District Two boy grinned and shook his head.

"Why would I be? I've been training for the Hunger Games my whole life. Showing off to a few random Gamemakers is gonna be easy." Melinda and Cainan had already entered, and Elita's name had been called only a few seconds ago. Ryder's turn was coming up. But he was telling the truth- he wasn't nervous at all.

The bell rang and he stood, grinning at Quarry. "I'm off!"

The Gamemakers were sitting along the wall at a table, eating some food. Ryder noticed that they were all female, which was a bit odd. But that didn't matter- he could show off to anyone.

"Impress me," the head Gamemaker ordered, looking vaguely amused.

He set to work, setting up some practice dummies and programming them to fight at the highest level. This made a few of them lean forward. A woman with long blonde hair and dark blue eyes seemed particularly interested.

Within a minute's time, the dummies were nothing more than a pile of parts on the floor. He bowed to the Gamemakers, flourishing his sword, and departed.

* * *

"Impressive, but hardly original," Azuki noted. Kushana shot a glance at the older woman.

"He is bloodthirsty. That always leads to entertainment."

"Sure, for people like you that are creepy and like seeing people die."

"Doesn't that describe most of the Capitol population? If people did not like seeing children die, the Hunger Games would have no financial backing."

"I suppose you have a point."

* * *

"H-hi... I'm Branwell..." He fidgeted, looking up at them. One of them gestured for him to do something. He scurried over to the table with rope and wire on it, fingers fumbling at the materials.

"This is a snare," he explained, holding up a tangled mess of rope that he had fashioned in about three seconds. Despite its haphazard appearance, there was an odd pattern to it. "Put a foot through here, and..." He stuck a branch in to demonstrate. The wires contracted with lightning speed, shearing through the branch.

The Gamemakers stared. Someone whistled appreciatively.

"...that's one foot missing." Branwell looked up, smiling, just as the buzzer went off. "Thank you."

* * *

"Speaking of bloodthirsty..." Sansa shook her head. "That was interesting."

"Look, princess, not everyone shares your attraction towards socially awkward boys," Alyza snapped.

"A mere peasant such as you should not say such things!" Sansa spat, standing, eyes flashing.

"Sit down," Dany said, yawning.

* * *

Auden darted nervous glances at the Gamemakers as he made his way towards the plant identification area. He had to impress them enough to get a highish score so he'd get sponsors... but he had no idea what to do.

He cleared the plant id in fifteen seconds- impressive if you didn't take into account the fact that he had spent most of his time there at Taylor's request. She had been fascinated with the thought of green things that grew from the ground. He hoped that the arena would have some trees in it, as she had seemed particularly entranced with the pictures of those.

Most of the Gamemakers weren't even paying attention, so he figured he could try out some knife throwing. It was getting kind of boring here, after all.

* * *

"This is boring," Dany complained.

"I agree," Rowena said.

Her twin sister opened one eye, a rare occurrence. "The day after tomorrow they will begin to die. Do not worry."

* * *

"Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambarmetta," TimothyLucy proclaimed as she entered. The male personality was fluent in multiple languages, including Japanese, French, and Quenya. It seemed like a proper way to begin a private session. Not that anyone was likely to understand her.

"Anyone know what she just said?" Dany asked, looking a bit confused.

"Yes," Isis replied, turning a page in her book and refusing to elaborate further.

Death took over, showing off her skill with multiple weapons and agility. She did the latter by climbing the roofbeams and flipping around on them.

Nyuu switched in as she landed, smiling sweetly at the Gamemakers. "Thank you very much~"

Sometimes it was quite convenient, having multiple personalities.

* * *

"Justice!" Gavin's fist slammed into a dummy, throwing it clear across the room and causing it to disintegrate into its component parts.

"Dammit," Azuki swore. "Do these idiotic tributes have any idea how much those things cost?"

"District Three will be happy to make more," Merete noted.

* * *

"So what did you do to impress the Gamemakers?" Ollie asked, tapping Maxell's shoulder. He grinned up at her.

"I forget." That ought to annoy her.

He was right. "You forget? How the hell do you forget something like that?"

"I might've talked about squirrels or something." He shrugged. "I like squirrels."

"Great. You probably got a one. Or a zero. Can you even get zeros?"

On the tv screen, the face of the District One girl flashed up next to the number nine.

"Typical Career," Ollie spat. "I hope she dies."

All of the Careers got at least a nine. The girl that got kicked out, Elita, had a ten, as did District Four. Maxell had begun thinking of them as a single unit, as the boy seemed to only sleep and follow the girl. Most of the non-Careers got between a four and a six. The lowest were Taylor and Foster, who both got twos. Maxell got a three.

"See, not a zero~" He smiled at Ollie, amused by the annoyance on her face.

"I got a higher score than you," she snapped.

"A four. Big deal."

"It might be the difference between sponsors and death," she spat. Maxell laughed.

"Do you really think two pathetic kids from Twelve are really gonna get any sponsors? We're doomed." He grinned. "Might as well face the truth now."

"I'll never give up hope." Ollie's face was determined. "I refuse to stop hoping!"

"Well. Good for you." Maxell yawned. "Do you happen to know where they keep the cookies around here?"

* * *

**If you got TimothyLucy's reference you get a cookie. A virtual cookie. Sorry I put so little effort into this chapter. But I really want to get into the arena...**

**Go vote on the poll on my profile! And Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it.**

**Review please!**

**Training Scores:**

**Cainan Rubin: 9**

**Melinda Willmore: 9**

**Ryder Hall: 9**

**Elita Upshow: 10**

**Branwell Annisson: 4**

**Fionn Peyton: 5**

**Primo Nitore: 10**

**Taristia Proneram: 10**

**Auden Ringer: 6**

**Taylor Lezeret: 2**

**Gavin Striker: 6**

**Fenetre Feu: 7**

**Rowan Lander: 6**

**Quarry Wainwright: 9**

**Ike Reddo: 7**

**Lucy Silk: 6**

**Caden Russell: 4**

**Sheila Birsten: 6**

**Foster Beckett: 2**

**Kivuta Seiswen: 6**

**Pastel Reus: 5**

**Trinya Howard: 3**

**Maxell Kyler: 3**

**Ollie Tilson: 4**


	11. Interviews: The Lucky One

**Interviews (Gamemaker p.o.v.)**

* * *

"I always find the interviews so boring. After while, they're all the same," Dany complained.

"But we're Gamemakers. We have to watch," Alyza pointed out, looking annoyed.

"I agree with Dany. Watching the children kill each other is much more amusing," Kushana said quietly, dark blue eyes gleaming.

Isis bit her fingernail, considering the empty stage in front of them. The crowd below was tangibly excited, a buzz of anticipation filling the air. The Capitol loved the interviews. And it was the only chance most tributes had to make enough of an impression to get sponsors.

If this was a book, the future Victor would be the one making the biggest impression of all. But Isis had found that most Victors were rather unexpected. So she had learned to keep an eye out for the silent ones, the mysterious ones. They were most likely to have the inner strength needed to win.

"When are they coming out?" Rowena asked, bouncing up and down a little in her seat. Beside her, Regina slept on, apparently unaware of her surroundings.

"Soon," Azuki replied.

"Lookit, here comes Dayton~" Dany leaned over the edge of the balcony, pointing. The black-haired, green eyed man strode onstage, grinning and waving at the crowd. The interviewer was a very popular man.

And thus the interviews began. Melinda seemed like a typical bloodthirsty Career, albeit a touch more violent that usual. She answered every one of Dayton Ward's questions with ease and confidence, radiating control in her beautiful blue ballgown.

Her District partner, Cainan, made a more subtle impact in his loose tunic with golden chain-applications. There was a knife at his belt hung so it was just visible. He came off as an intelligent killer, much more so than most Careers. Isis liked this boy. He also seemed a bit nicer than a typical Career.

Glancing at Dany, Isis pulled out a book and began to read. It usually started getting boring after the first few Careers. As Dany had said, the interviews were all the same.

* * *

"And do you think that your training will help you in the arena?" Dayton asked Elita.

The District Two girl shifted, a bit uncomfortable in her clinging black dress. "Of course. There's not a single person here that can beat me. Besides, Careers always have the upper hand."

"Do you think that's fair?"

Elita frowned. "This is a battle. Of course it isn't fair! Fighting, after all, is a monster born from unfairness and intolerance. 'I can't stand that guy'... 'I can beat that guy'... 'I won't forgive that guy'... enemies are made for all sorts of reasons. From the moment one makes an enemy, until one breathes their final breath, they are in battle." She paused. "That's just how it is in the arena. Nothing's fair."

"Well, thank you for that, Elita."

* * *

Ryder wore a much more covering outfit than his partner. Dressed in black slacks and a teal shirt, he cut quite the striking figure.

"I understand that your grandfather won the Hunger Games in his time and that he has been training you," Dayton said. When Ryder nodded, he added, "Care to share any of his teachings with us?"

"He once said, Seek not beauty in battle. Seek not beauty in death. Consider not your own life. If you wish to protect that which must be protected then strike while your opponent back is turned." Ryder shrugged. "I found it odd, coming from a Victor. I thought you had to like killing to win. But if I can win with honor, then it will be worth it, no?"

* * *

"You look very nice, Fionn."

The District Three girl was wearing a long dress of electric green silk, with a hole cut out in the middle, revealing her tan stomach. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was actually brushed and straightened for once.

"I don't feel pretty," she imformed him bluntly. "I feel used. This is all just a big game, you know." She regarded Dayton with some disgust. "Do grown men always have to play games? Does everything have to be an excuse for another kind of game? Do any men grow up or do they just come of age?"

* * *

"Well, this is boring." Rowena prodded her sleeping sister. "But you need to stay awake, Regina."

"Mmph..." Regina shoved Rowena's hand away.

Onstage the District Three boy stammered and blushed his way through his interview. It must be really terrible for socially awkward people like him to have to speak onstage like this.

* * *

"It's pointless to just fight, it's pointless to just live... I want to win!" Taristia proclaimed.

"Do you, now?" Dayton asked, grinning. "That's just the attitude you need to win!"

"I know. But I can win this so much more easily than anyone here."

* * *

"What do you think of the other tributes here, Primo?" Dayton asked.

The District Four boy grinned. "I'll kill 'em all~"

"You expect no difficulty with that?"

"I will show them what they can't compensate for with a thousand years of training. The decisive difference in strength." Primo nodded.

* * *

"The whole thing is quite hopeless, so it's no good worrying about tomorrow. It probably won't come." Taylor regarded Dayton with a blank stare, blue dress shimmering.

"Is it, now."

"That's what Auden told me to say." Taylor looked a bit confused at Dayton's reaction.

* * *

"Gah, that poor girl. She's so helpless." Alyza frowned. "What was it that they said? She was a lab experiment? The lied to her her whole life?"

"That's right," Dany replied, yawning. "Does it matter? Maybe she'll get lucky and walk onto a landmine the first day."

Onstage, Taylor wandered off and Auden entered. The short, pale boy seemed very sweet, but Alyza couldn't see him as a Victor.

"The Capitol likes Taylor better," Azuki noted.

"And everyone loves the Careers," Dany added.

"District Four seems to be everyone's favorites."

* * *

"I like fire," Fenetre said, grinning at Dayton. Her red dress flashed under the lights as she shifted in her chair.

"Fire, eh? Why's that?"

"My parents died in a fuel explosion. Transport district, right? Fuel accidents are fairly common."

"And naturally that led to an obsession with fire."

"Of course~"

* * *

Azuki watched as the pyro girl left the stage and her District partner, Gavin, entered. According to her files, the boy was a bouncer at the local bar. He certainly looked the part, with huge muscles and a generally threatening look on his face.

The Capitol polls showed the other members of his alliance ahead of him, though. The watchers appreciated Kivuta's spirit, Sheila's quiet menacing air, and Trinya's insanity.

Quarry was interesting in if only because she was the only non-Career in the Career alliance. Azuki had analyzed past Games and had found that most members of the Career alliance- including those who joined from lower Districts- lasted fairly long. However, most of them did not win. One might wonder if that was actually a valid plan.

Rowan seemed confident, striding onstage with a purposeful swing to his step. He got a few laughs from the crowd. Azuki thought he might make it farther than most, though he did not seem likely to win.

* * *

Lucy's silver eyes were cool as she regarded Dayton. "War is not heroic. War is not exhilarating. War is full of despair. It is dark. It is dreadful. It is a thing of sorrow and gloom. That is why people fear war. That is why people choose to avoid it."

"Are you saying that the Hunger Games is a form of war?" Dayton looked interested, for once.

"Children dying? That seems like no valid war to me. But there is fighting and death and a winner. So I suppose it is a war of sorts. Simply one completely devoid of honor."

* * *

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!"

"Hello, Ike."

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!"

"...is that so?

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!"

* * *

"Don't forget me." Sheila's blue eyes were intense as she stared at Dayton. "I might not seem like much, but woe to he who forgets my face. Death comes for all. I am death incarnate."

Dayton smiled. "Many tributes have said that. How are you different?"

She returned the smile coldly. "That is for me to know and you to wonder about."

* * *

"She's a hired killer for the Mafia," Dany noted.

"I know," Alyza snapped. "You've told us that every time she shows up."

Caden the drug dealer was next. He was quiet and elusive, barely answering any of Dayton's questions. That wouldn't do much to get him support. Kivuta strode onstage in a sparkling pink and orange dress, confident. She spent most of her three minutes complaining about her stepmother, who was apparently the reason she had volunteered.

Foster was very nice. Which was a pity, as nice tributes never lasted very long in the arena. Trinya seemed freaked out by everything, flinching every time Dayton asked her a question and casting nervous glances at the crowd. Pastel was very pissed off the whole time, being curt and dismissive and glaring at Dayton.

Ollie tried to make an impression and failed. Maxell chattered on and on about his pet squirrel Alec and candy and other such random things.

"You're right, these are quite boring," Kushana noted.

Dany nodded. "Well, they're over. And tomorrow? It's into the arena we go!" She grinned like a little kid, rubbing her hands together. "Gah, I can't wait..."

* * *

**I'm posting this just to piss you off, FreeInk. Because you know what? I can post four things in one day. And you can still read them. Ne? :3**

**Merry Christmas for real this time, y'all.**

**Bloodbath next!**

**Review please!**


	12. Bloodbath: I Will Never Forgive You

**Bloodbath**

* * *

Ollie closed her eyes as the doors to her tube slid shut. This was it. She was actually entering the arena. The Hunger Games were about to begin for real... and there was a ninety-nine percent chance that she was going to die.

_No. I can't think like that. I have to get home to Olivia. _As usual, the thought of her sister waiting at home for her was enough to calm her down. People like her that had something to live for couldn't die. It just wasn't possible, right?

There was a slight shudder and the tube began to ascend. She opened her eyes, looking up to where the top of the chamber offered a view of the arena sky. It was black, filled with tiny pinpricks of light that she supposed were stars. So it was to be a nighttime arena, then. No sun. Tough, but not as bad as it could have been.

And then she was out in the open, stepping onto her golden plate. The arena around her was not quite completely dark, though there was very little light. The stars above and the crescent moon gave just enough illumination to see the pale outlines of trees around them, very close to the golden cornucopia in the center of the circle of plates.

60... 59... 58... 57...

Maxell was four plates to her right, only distinguishable from the surrounding gloom by his goofy smile. No one else would be smiling at a time like this.

30... 29... 28... 27...

That clock was running down much too fast for her liking. She shifted her gaze to the pile of supplies spilling from the mouth of the cornucopia. There were a few swords there, knives, too. And in the back a bow and a quiver full of arrows.

Her heart lept. That bow and arrows. Maybe if she got her hands on those she'd be fine. She could kill from long distance with that, hunt, survive...

10... 9... 8... 7...

Sure, it was a bit Katniss Everdeen of her to want to use the bow and arrows, but that obviously didn't bother her much.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1... gong!

She launched herself off the plate towards the cornucopia, only dimly aware of the people surrounding her. Somewhere, she knew the Careers were dashing for the weapons, meaning to kill as many people as possible right now. But they wouldn't kill her- she was too quick...

Her hand fastened around the bow and she turned to run into the forest, eyes searching for Maxell.

"Going somewhere, Twelve?"

She spun, fumbling at the bow, trying to string an arrow on in time. Taristia laughed, knocking the weapon aside casually. The bow clattered against the cornucopia as Ollie shrank back, terrified.

"Wanting to be another Mockingjay with your cute little bow, eh?" the District Four girl taunted. "Nice try, bitch." She whipped out a knife and sank it into Ollie's throat without another word. Choking on her own blood, Ollie fell back against the cold metal horn, eyes rolling up in her head.

* * *

"Shit!"

Pastel dropped the bag he had tried to grab and dodged a blow from Elita's sword. He took one look at the District Two girl's face and started sprinting for the forest.

"My god, she's trying to kill me," he muttered under his breath. "Dammit, why's she have to come after me? I've never done anything to make someone hate me (...actually I've done that a lot...) but I don't deserve to die!"

He stumbled and threw his hand out to break his fall. His fingers brushed something cold and hard and he looked up to see a tree there, gleaming milky white in the moonlight.

"It's made of stone..." he whispered, shocked, completely forgetting about the angry Career chasing him.

Elita's sword flashed and his head parted company with his shoulders.

* * *

Rowan snagged a bag and a sword, darting a glance towards where a few people appeared to be fighting. The District Six boy, Gavin, fell beneath Primo's sword in a spray of blood, and Rowan nodded. The boy had seemed to be one of the stronger non-Careers, so it was best that he died now, in the bloodbath.

He turned towards the forest, intending to put as much distance between the cornucopia and him as possible. The dark sky threw him off a bit- it was harder to see in an arena that was as dark as this. But there seemed to be a source of light only a few yards away, a glowing path. An odd thing, to be sure, but in a dark arena it was helpful to have a light source.

Running footsteps made him spin, whipping his sword out. The District Ten boy, Foster, dashed past him carrying two packs, apparently unaware of the watchful eyes.

_Guess I'll just have to go punish him for his ignorance, eh? _Moving forward purposefully, as he always did, he shadowed the shorter boy. Foster was heading towards a group of other children, three girls. Presumably they were members of his alliance.

"Hey, guys, I got the supplies. But Primo got Gavin. So let's get out of here, huh?"

Two of the girls, Kivuta and Trinya, nodded. But the District Nine girl with the piercing blue eyes looked up into Rowan's face, the only one there that was aware of his presence. Her gaze flickered over his drawn sword, then back to her defenseless ally. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly and stepped back as if to give Rowan room to swing his sword.

_Well, that was interesting. _He wasted no time- if Sheila decided to betray her ally, that was no concern of his. The sword darted forward, embedding itself in Foster's skull. A spray of blood and grey brain matter spattered on the dirt as Rowan stepped back. Kivuta and Trinya screamed. Sheila seemed to be smiling slightly.

He turned and darted into the stone forest, pausing to wipe his sword on a clump of grass. It would never do to have the blood of someone like Foster on his weapon.

* * *

"Where're you going, captain?" As usual, Primo's slow voice annoyed the heck out of Taristia.

"To finish off District Twelve. Don't wait up." She had spotted movement in the shadow of the cornucopia, near where Ollie's dead body lay, and a quick glance had ascertained what she'd already figured would happen- the idiotic boy was kneeling next to her body, having a conversation with the dead girl.

"So, Ollie," Maxell was saying as Taristia approached, not even bothering to mask the sound of her steps. "Can you let me know if there are any squirrels in the afterlife? I mean, squirrels are, like, my best friends. So I don't want to die if there aren't any squirrels there."

Taristia looked down with an expression of disgust on her face. "Dammit, weaklings like you shouldn't even be let into the arena, you know that?" Her eyes lighted upon the bow that Ollie had tried and failed to use and her face lit up. She bent and picked it up, notching an arrow to the string.

Maxell looked up. "Oh, hi."

"Unlike your ally, I can use this. So if you want to start running so I can have some target practice..." Taristia pulled back the string, squinting down the shaft at the District Twelve boy. Even in this low light, she couldn't miss at this range. "Any last words?"

The boy simply stared up at her. "I will never forgive you."

Taristia's face contorted with fury and the bowstring twanged as she let go. The arrow punched straight through Maxell's face. Seething, the District Four girl kicked the boy as he fell back.

"I don't need the forgiveness of lower District scum like you."

* * *

As far as Caden could tell, the arena was mainly comprised of a stone forest, with trees of varying types of stone and crystal. There was also only a starry sky above, with no sun and only the thinnest sliver of a moon. But the arena was fairly well lit.

There were paths, crystal paths radiating outwards from the cornucopia's clearing. These glowed red and white and dark grey, casting soft light across the bare forest floor.

A very odd arena, overall. And considering the fact that there was a new Head Gamemaker with a reputation to establish, there was probably a lot more to this arena than there seemed at first sight.

* * *

"What are we going to do now?" Kivuta whimpered, staring down at Foster's dead body. Sheila forced back an overwhelming feeling of disgust. If the District Ten girl hadn't been prepared for this kind of slaughter, she shouldn't have volunteered in the first place.

"The trees are made of stone," Trinya noted, running a hand along the granite bark of the tree closest to her. That was a reaction Sheila found more endurable- rather than focus on someone's death, look at your surroundings. Then again, Trinya seemed more than a little bit insane, so that wasn't saying much.

"Shut up!" Kivuta slapped Trinya in the face, hard. "Don't you even care that Foster's dead?" Her voice broke on the last word and tears spilled over her cheeks.

Sheila's hand curled around the hilt of the knife she had recovered from Foster's pack. She really wanted to sink the blade into this idiot's neck.

"Don't hit me! Of course I'm sad the golden boy's dead! But... but he would've wanted us to survive..." Trinya trailed off, looking helplessly at Sheila as if asking for help.

"Fine. I'm still the leader here. So we'll go now and find some shelter." Kivuta palmed the tears from her eyes and turned towards where the path glowed white in the darkness. She froze at the sight of Sheila's knife mere inches from her face.

"I've decided something," Sheila said in a conversational tone of voice.

"...what the hell?" Kivuta frowned, not comprehending the danger she was in. "Put that away, Sheila."

"I think I want to kill you." Sheila's hand flashed forward and Kivuta's eye disappeared in a spray of blood. She forced the knife in deeper through the socket, feeling Kivuta slump forward.

"Sh-sheila...?" Trinya looked at her, eyes wide and terrified.

"I would run if I was you." Sheila's voice was cold and emotionless as she yanked the knife free from Kivuta's head. Trinya turned, sobbing, and dashed off into the forest.

_I hope she dies soon. It would be a pity to have to hunt her down again._ Sheila regarded Kivuta's dead body.

"I find you to be a much more agreeable person now that you are dead."

* * *

**Dead (plus who killed them)**

**24) Oliver Olivia "Ollie" Tilson (Taristia)- Katniss type characters shall die! It's just the rule! Plus she wouldn't have survived long.**

**23) Pastel "Crayola" Reus (Elita)- Ha, same goes for him. And bloodbath characters were needed.**

**22) Gavin "Zero" Striker (Primo)- Justice boy is dead! Too bad... and Primo got a kill 'cause he's cool that way.**

**21) Foster Beckett (Rowan)- Rowan's a pretty good killer. Just saying.**

**20) Maxell Kyler (Taristia)- Never was going to make it far, really. And now Taristia has two kills!**

**19) Kivuta Seiswen (Sheila)- And thus the big non-Career alliance completely disintegrates. Because Gavin and Foster and Kivuta are dead. And Trinya ran away.**

**ALLIANCES: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Quarry, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Taylor, Sheila (loner), Rowan (loner), Fionn/Branwell, Fenetre/Elita, Caden (loner), Trinya (loner)**

**I hope the arena makes sense. More of its twists will be revealed as time goes on... though I'm sure some of you have guessed it already based on the title and the profile form questions...**

**Review please.**


	13. Alone

**Night One: After the Bloodbath**

* * *

"I want to be perfectly clear about one thing." Fionn put her hands on her hips and glared at Branwell. The shorter boy looked back at her innocently.

"And that would be?"

"This is not an alliance."

"Then what is it?" He looked honestly curious.

"You following me around and me being annoyed. Okay? I never agreed to an alliance." Fionn regarded Branwell for a few more minutes, then dropped her pack on the ground. "All right. I guess this is as good a place to camp as any. Alone."

"Of course." Branwell also shrugged off his pack and sat down on the ground, staring up at her.

"I said I'm camping _alone_," she repeated, a bit more loudly.

"Of course you are. And I'm camping with you."

* * *

"Muscles, aw yeah!" Ike cheered. DeathLucy regarded him, silver eyes cool.

"You didn't capitalize that. Are you okay?"

"Well. You did tell me to be quieter." Ike grinned. "Say, where's everyone else? Death's the only one that's been showing up lately. I miss Timothy. He was really nice."

The girl's eye color shifted, going blue. "Sup, Ike?"

"Hey, Timothy. Want me to show you my muscles aw yeah?"

"You've already showed them to me often enough, thank you." The male personality's voice was softly accented, and there was a kinder look in his/her eyes than there was in Death's. There was also a more mature light than in either Nyuu or Lucy's.

Ike grinned. "I like you best, you know?"

"The others can hear you," TimothyLucy said, but there was a smile on his/her face as s/he said this.

"Yeah, and don't you like me, too?" Nyuu chimed in, the body's eyes flashing gold.

"I like you too." Ike clapped a hand on NyuuLucy's shoulder, grinning. "Want to stop here or should I carry you somewhere else with my muscles aw yeah, princess?"

* * *

"Okay, Taylor. We're in the arena now. Do you remember what I told you about this?"

The flaxen-haired girl looked up at him, face illuminated by the red light from the path next to them. "People will try to kill me."

"And so...?"

"I should run away if anyone except for you comes," she replied dutifully, parroting his words from training. He wondered how much of what she was saying she actually understood, and how much was meaningless ideas she memorized to keep him happy.

"That's right, Taylor."

_And how long can the two of us survive? A girl with no practical knowledge whatsoever and a boy that's never even been in the woods before..._

He leaned back against the cold stone tree and stared up at the night sky above. The stars that twinkled there were cold and distant, somehow different from the ones back home in District Five.

* * *

"Start a campfire." Taristia ran a scrap of cloth along the flat of her blade, polishing it. Ryder and Cainan glanced at each other, shrugged, and stood up to do their leader's bidding. Approximately five seconds later, a very obvious problem presented itself. After a brief conferral, Ryder shoved Cainan forward, towards the District Four girl.

"Um... Taristia?"

"What?" she snapped, looking up.

"...there's nothing to make a fire with. Because the trees are made of stone."

"And it's pretty damn hard to burn stone," Quarry noted. Taristia shot a glare at her and crossed her arms.

"Suggestions, anyone?" She glanced sideways at Quarry. "Or would we rather sit around making smart comments all night long?"

"It's not that cold," Melinda pointed out. "We should be fine without a fire."

"And the path is warm. Did anyone else notice that?" Ryder moved towards the glowing road, one of many that branched out from the cornucopia. There was indeed a faint heat rising from it, tangible in the slightly chilly night air. Primo detached himself from the shadows under the tree where he'd been lurking and moved forward to investigate.

"Fascinating," he drawled. "Well, if we get cold we can always come curl up here."

Cainan eyed the path, which was a dark shade of grey. There was an uncomfortable look on his face. "I don't know. I don't like the look of this thing. I've got a bad feeling about it..."

"Oh, shut up," Taristia spat. "We haven't got time for your stupid feelings. We set up camp here."

* * *

"Elita?" The green-eyed girl paused, suddenly aware that her ally had stopped and was staring off into the distance at something. "Are you okay?"

The District Two girl looked up, surprised. "Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

Fenetre shrugged and shifted her pack's weight on her back. "If you want to." She had a fairly good idea what- or who- Elita had been thinking about, anyways. Ever since they'd entered the arena, Elita had taken to staring off into space, a softer look on her face than Fenetre was used to seeing there.

_Damn Melinda. Even in the arena, she's got Elita. Even when she's not here._

Maybe that was jealousy. Maybe Fenetre was mad because Elita seemed unable to forget about Melinda even though at least one of them had to die. But really, did Elita have to get that sappy, daydreamy look every time she thought of the District One girl?

Fenetre clenched her fists. _All right, Melinda. The instant I see you, you're dying._

* * *

Sheila sank to the ground next to the glowing white path, frowning slightly as she felt the warmth rising from it. Despite the fact that it was comforting on a colder night like this, the Gamemakers never gave the tributes in the arena something unless there was a built in danger.

She wondered how many other people had figured out that if the paths were a source of warmth, the Gamemakers were trying to draw them in for some reason. Bring the tributes to the paths. It might be something as innocent as trying to get them closer together so they'd kill each other, but there was the very real possibility that there was some other danger here.

But for now, it would have to do. Let the danger come. She could handle anything.

* * *

**ALLIANCES: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Quarry, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Taylor, Sheila (loner), Rowan (loner), Fionn/Branwell, Fenetre/Elita, Caden (loner), Trinya (loner)**

******This chapter was really just a quick check in with the various alliances, though we didn't see all the loners. And all the quick updates are only 'cause I'm on winter break! Don't get used to it or anything...**

******Review please!**


	14. Ere The Sun Rises

**Night Two Part One (because in a nighttime arena there's no point in calling them 'days')**

* * *

Trinya sighed, staring up at the sky above. The moon had set, so she supposed that it was now technically the second day, but since there was no sunrise there was no real way to tell the daytime from the night. The hours were much longer with no way to see the passage of time.

She was beginning to see more and more downsides to this nighttime arena.

Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to keep warm. Sheila had all the supplies that Foster had recovered from the cornucopia, and even if the red path a few meters away was warm, there was something she didn't like about it. In the darkness, it shone like some hellish river of fire.

There was a sharp snap behind her and she scrambled to her feet. Something was moving in the darkness, blotting out the milky white outlines of the crystal trees she had taken refuge under. She bit her lip, backing away. Alone, weaponless, and in the dark... it was like some kind of nightmare.

_Nightmare..._

The shadow crept closer, into the blood-red light from the path, and she screamed. A giant hulk of misshapen flesh, with yellow glowing eyes like a cat, and long tentacles of black flame that seemed to suck away what little light there was in the stone forest.

_It's just another Fantasy World thing. A hallucination. They can't hurt you, so there's no point in freaking out like this..._ Trinya backed away nonetheless, ducking behind a dark grey tree.

The beast's eyes flickered, tracking her, and she shuddered. A tongue of dark fire snaked out towards her and she was shocked to discover that she could feel the heat of it.

"You're not real!" she screamed. "You can't be!"

The monster rumbled deep in its fiery depths, drawing closer. Its tentacles wrapped around the tree behind which she was hiding, and another scream of primeval fear was ripped from her throat as it lifted her into the air, crushing the air from her lungs even as it burned her.

_It _is_ real,_ she realized with horror. But that had never happened before... her visions weren't supposed to actually hurt her like this! The Fantasy World was a safe place, not this...

The world was dissolving around her. Head lolling to the side, her drifting eyes fastened on the red path that glowed beneath her like a malevolent river from hell.

_That made this real. The arena made my Fantasy World real. _How she knew this so surely, she had no idea, but there was no doubting the truth of it.

Her cannon fired and the monster dropped her body. Trinya landed with a dull thud next to a white crystal tree, inches from the red path.

* * *

The girl's scream jolted Taristia from a troubled sleep. She sat upright, heart pounding, knife sliding from her sheath into her hand before she even quite realized where she was.

"Something wrong, captain?" Primo was sitting with his back to a jet-black stone tree, dark eyes gleaming in the light from the dusky grey path next to them. She looked at him, slowly setting down her knife. An echo, a fading whisper from her dream, intruded.

_And for the ninety-sixth Games... from District Four... Kiria Riverglen!_

She shook her head, forcing this out. That had happened. But she had been twelve, there had been no way she could have volunteered then, even if she'd known she'd do better than that blonde idiot.

"You look... troubled." Primo smiled slightly as if he, too, could hear the voices which haunted her.

_The ninety-eighth Games... Averi Mireault!_

Fourteen hadn't been old enough to enter the arena, either. There was no point in dwelling on missed opportunities when she was here, in the arena...

_The hundred and first Games..._

"Captain?" Primo stood and moved closer to her, looking amused rather than concerned by her lack of response. He laid a hand on her arm. "If you have a problem and there's anything I can-"

She slapped his hand away with blinding speed before he could complete his sentence. "Go away." She turned over and bundled herself back into the sleeping bag, closing her eyes stubbornly and willing the nightmare to go away.

Stubbornly, it crept back into the crevices of her mind like some dark river. Powerless, she could only sleep... and dream.

_She was running over the smooth track they always used to train in District Four. Familiar ground to any Career from the fishing District, and a place where many of her victories had been won. There were none there that could beat her in short distances._

_Footsteps from behind drew closer, coming up right next to her... then passed her._

No...

_The boy's back faded into the distance just as another set of footsteps passed her... and another... and another..._

No! This didn't happen!

_And then the voice of her Escort began to read off the names for the seven Hunger Games that she was eligible for, beginning with the ninety-sixth. Taristia struggled onward, breath rasping in and out of her lungs, but the others continued to pass her on either side, nothing more than shadows to her blurring vision._

_"Our female tribute for the hundred and first Hunger Games is..."_

_She raised her head, opening her mouth to scream her own name._

_"Carana Maedrhos!"_

No! It's me! I was the tribute, I volunteered, and I'm the one that's going to win this Hunger Games...

_Taristia collapsed on the track, scraping her knees. She stared blankly at the blood streaming down her shins, tears welling up in her eyes as she felt her future slipping away through her hands._

* * *

Rowan paced back and forth, hands in his armpits, breath clouding before him in a fine silver mist. The blood-red path beside him taunted him with its promise of warmth, its apparent safety.

He knew better. Every time he approached, the undeniable feeling of being watched forced him back. Something was wrong here. Some evil haunted the forest here, poisoning it, creeping 'round the sleeping and defenseless tributes.

_Well, this is one tribute that's not going to be caught off guard. _Rowan loosened his sword in its sheath, smiling slightly at the rasp of metal on metal. Safety was here, in this blade... even though he barely knew how to use it, it was better than nothing.

Fear. That was what lived in this arena. But there was no fear but that which humans created in their thoughts. And he would not give in to some phantom of the mind-

The ground beneath him opened up without warning, spilling him down into the depths of the earth. He gasped, stomach swooping as gravity took hold, accelerating him down, down through the mist.

_This is a familiar place. _

He craned his neck, peering around. Faces stared back at his, pale and frightened and identical to his own. One by one they faded into the mist as he fell faster and faster into the darkness. Now alone but for the shrill shriek of the bitterly cold wind that caught at his hair and clothes, he glanced down, forcing back the vertigo.

The bottom.

_This is my dream._

Whether this was real or some fantasy he knew not, but he was sure that either way it was a creation of the Gamemakers. Such dreams did not pervade his waking life. They were for the darkness of the night, when he was alone in his room, with the walls closing in about him. Not for here, not for now.

"I deny you!" he screamed into the wind, spinning in midair so he was facing straight down. The rocky bottom below hurtled towards him, but there was no fear in his heart. "This is not real! I refuse to believe in you! There is no fear in me!"

The world snapped back. He fell on his hands and knees in the dirt, gasping, sweat rolling down his face. Of the hole into which he had fallen there was no sign.

_Did that happen? Or was it really just a dream? _

His trembling fingers brushed the ragged edge of his coat where it had caught on the rock as he fell. That had been no dream. That had been deadly real. And somehow- this time- he had escaped with his life.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in him and he slumped back against the nearest stone tree, staring up at the starry sky above.

He was alive. That was all that mattered... for now.

* * *

"Good. Very good." Dany leaned over her screen, a maniacal grin on her face. "He saw through it. Fearless children are always better."

"Doesn't it annoy you, that he resisted?" Alyza asked.

"If the path wasn't enough to break him, we will find other ways. Besides... there are many more children in that arena for us to toy with." Dany grinned. "The fun is only just starting, my dear."

"There is no such thing as 'just a dream' in this arena," Regina noted. Her sleeping sister shifted as if in agreement.

Dany turned to face the gathered Gamemakers. "And by the time we're through with them, these poor little children won't know fantasy from reality. Whichever is unlucky enough to escape alive will question their sanity for the rest of their life." She bared her teeth in a crazed grin. "Before they see the light of the sun again... we will give them such dreams as to haunt them for the rest of their life."

"Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!" Isis whispered, finger tracing along the edge of her book. "Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!"

Kushana glanced sideways at her fellow Gamemaker, the sadistic blonde's eyes unreadable. "It shall be glorious."

"_We_ shall be glorious," Azuki added. Sansa nodded her agreement.

And together the Gamemakers of Panem stood to begin another day of slaughter.

* * *

**19) Trinya Howard (killed by arena): and thus the evil plan of the Gamemakers begins to show! Mwahahaha... oh, did you think this was just a lame stone forest where it was always nighttime? Ha, so sorry. Not.**

**ALLIANCES: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Quarry, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Taylor, Sheila (loner), Rowan (loner), Fionn/Branwell, Fenetre/Elita, Caden (loner)**

**Review please.**


	15. Mist and Shadow

**Night Two Part Two**

* * *

"That cannon earlier... who do you suppose it was?" NyuuLucy asked, looking up at Ike with wide, innocent golden eyes.

"No idea, princess." He shrugged. "There's one less person, though. Seventeen of us left."

"And one will survive." NyuuLucy contemplated this, folding her hands in a childish gesture. The five-year-old personality was very innocent and very mature at the same time. Ike supposed it came from living in the same head as three other, older personalities.

"You still haven't told me why there are four of you," Ike noted. "Or were you just born like that?"

A dark shadow crossed the girl's face and she shook her head. "This is not a tale for now. Nor is it something you need to know." Her eyes flashed silver and DeathLucy added, "All you need to know is that I am getting Lucy out of here alive though it means the deaths of all the children here."

"Including me?" Ike asked, a goofy smile on his face. "I suppose so, then."

"No hard feelings?" TimorhyLucy offered, a hopeful smile crossing his/her face.

"Lucy... all of you..." Ike shook his head, uncharacteristically serious. "If by my life or death I can save you, so be it. I shall protect you with my whole being."

TimothyLucy nodded. "We thank you."

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!" Ike said suddenly, apparently realizing that he had gone a whole scene without saying his line and that wasn't supposed to happen.

* * *

_Her hands were before her, pale in the dim light. It was where she had been her whole life, alone in a dark room... until she had been rudely yanked into the harsh daylight and forced into a whirlwind the likes of which she had never even dreamed existed. _

_But the light that appeared in front of her now was nothing like the bright white of the sun. It was soft and golden, illuminating her corpse-pale skin, giving it a glow that made it almost seem like she was alive, normal._

_She reached for the light, aware of a smile that broke across her face. Happiness was not something she had ever felt before being brought into the sun. What Dr. Aizen had stolen from her were the emotions everyone else took for granted... and what he had given her was the darkness._

_But Auden had freed her. Auden had taught her how to be someone like him, someone that he called 'normal'. And the part of her that still felt after those years in the darkness had begun to stir once more under his gentle voice._

_Perhaps this was the concept he called 'love'._

_She floated up into the light, fingers stretching out but unable to touch it. The darkness fell away and the blue sky was above- not hell, as Dr. Aizen had said, but the sky that Auden so loved, with daylight and clouds and a bird flying high above._

_The lies were over, even if only until her life ended._

* * *

Auden watched his ally sleep, a small smile on her face. It had been just over a week since he had met her, and she had changed so much from that scared, clueless little girl that had been pulled onto the stage, blinking in the sunlight she had never seen before.

He wondered what she dreamed of, what vision made her so happy. At least someone here was having a nice dream.

* * *

Fionn was jerked from a frantic dream of dark water and sinking by Branwell's hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake. She sat bolt upright and shoved him away.

"What the hell?" she snapped, heart pounding from the shock of being woken and the fear of her dream.

"You were whimpering. It seemed like you needed to be woken up." He shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"Go away." She kicked free of her sleeping bag and stood, feeling the cold night air on her bare arms. It was still dark, and had been since they'd entered the arena nearly a day and a half ago. It didn't look like the sun would be rising anytime soon.

"If you're scared, I can recite some poetry. That always calms me down."

"I'm not scared!" she protested, annoyed. Then she looked at his face for real, perhaps for the first time. There were deep shadows under his eyes and a generally haggard look to him, as though he had not slept for weeks- or at least, not since entering the arena.

He met her eyes steadily. "I am scared. You should be, too."

"Then recite away, for yourself. Not for me. You can go back to your camp because we're _not_ in an alliance, remember?"

"That's right. We're in a not-an-alliance." He looked at her as if expecting a reaction. She crossed her arms and stared off into the night, feigning indifference.

There was a soft rustle as he stood and began pacing back and forth. Just when she thought he was finally going to leave her alone, he whispered, "Home is behind, the world ahead."

She looked up, surprised.

"And there are many paths to tread." He looked at her, dark eyes bright. "Through shadow, to the edge of night. Until the stars are all alight..."

Fionn closed her eyes and let the words wash over her. They were comforting, somehow, like the cradle songs her mother had once sung to her... before real life intruded.

"Mist and shadow, cloud and shade, all shall fade... all shall fade."

_If only that were true. If only._

* * *

Cainan tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep. Even if that sleep was haunted by dreams of rejection and betrayal... it was a good sight better than being sleep-deprived. Exhaustion could be very dangerous in the arena.

"Can't sleep?" Ryder whispered, nudging Cainan's sleeping bag with his toe. The District Two boy was on watch, with his knife out and ready to use beside him.

Cainan sat up, giving up on his attempts to rest. "No. Don't know why."

Quarry stirred, rolling over and opening her brown eyes. "Bad dreams, huh?"

"Perhaps." The District One boy shrugged. "Nothing to be concerned over, of course. Probably just a stress reaction." It wasn't something a normal Career would have done, perhaps, admitting weakness like that, but he had found that honesty was the best way to get someone to trust you. And he needed trust from these people- at least until the end.

"There is often truth in dreams. What do you dream of?" Ryder asked.

"None of your business." _Rejection. Loss of control. Never finding peace._

Quarry glanced over to where Taristia and Primo lay, a few inches apart, apparently sleeping. "She's been dreaming, too. Bad dreams from the sound of it. She whimpered a couple of times."

"And you did too." Ryder considered this. "Maybe there's something in this arena that's making us have... well, have nightmares."

"So you have dreamt too," Cainan noted. Ryder flashed him a way-to-state-the-obvious look.

"Then the best thing to do would be to try and kill as many people as we can as quickly as possible so we can get out of here." It was fairly obvious that by 'we', Quarry meant 'I'.

"It's too soon to betray our alliance," Ryder hissed, glancing nervously to where Taristia slept.

"I wasn't suggesting that... yet. But can't you see how bad of a leader she is? She's done nothing for us! Maybe it'd be better if... if..." Here Quarry looked down with calculated bashfulness, then flicked her eyes up to Ryder's face. "Maybe if someone like you was the leader?"

Cainan smirked. Oh, that was smart of her. She was quite the manipulative little girl, wasn't she? And Ryder was just enough of a fool to fall for it, puffing up his chest and nodding at Quarry as if he thought he was the one in control.

"I could lead this group, that's true."

In the shadows, a faint smile crossed Primo's face. His dark eyes glittered from beneath half-closed eyelids, watching the three of them talk, unaware of the watcher beneath the trees. They had no idea how enmeshed in his plan they were.

_The board is set... the pieces are moving..._

* * *

**ALLIANCES: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Quarry, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Taylor, Sheila (loner), Rowan (loner), Fionn/Branwell, Fenetre/Elita, Caden (loner)**


	16. Revenge

**Night Two Part Three**

* * *

Caden wandered the stone forest, disoriented. It was so dark... why hadn't the sun risen yet? The sun should be up. It wasn't fair for the Gamemakers to make it always nighttime.

Something soft and dark whispered across his face and he batted it away, shrieking. There were things moving in the night, things that shouldn't exist. His mind insisted that they did not exist, that he was just seeing things, but their stubborn reality persisted. And this pushed his mind a bit too far.

Some distant, still rational part of him noted that he was running through the woods, insane. But for the rest of him everything was nothing more than a blur of fear and darkness, trying to escape this nightmare.

He shrieked as something huge tore him off his feet, sending him flying into a tree behind. A sudden pain in his stomach made him look down in horror. He had been driven into one of the tree's stone branches with enough force to send the crystal bough through his abdomen.

"No..." He struggled to rip himself free as the giant dark form that had thrown him approached. "No!"

The giant, which might have been a mutated monkey of some sort, paused inches from him. Caden squirmed helplessly, pinned to the tree by the branch that protruded from his stomach. He could smell the mutt's rank breath, hear its soft growls as it reached up towards him.

"Please..."

Its paws fastened around his head and started pressing. He moaned, feeling his skull begin to buckle. The pressure became unbearable, the pain in his stomach fading as his brain was slowly compressed.

Then, mercifully, everything went dark.

* * *

Fenetre watched her fire burn, sending little sparks into the night air. Elita's sponsors had sent firewood, so they had had a hot dinner- or lunch or something. It was very hard to tell what time of day it was here, when it was always night. The only way they could mark the passage of days was the nightly display of the dead.

There had been two cannons today. Maybe one of them had been Melinda. Fenetre didn't really dare to hope that the District One girl was dead, but perhaps. One never knew.

Elita sat down next to Fenetre, looking at the fire. "What're you doing?"

"Making toast." It was really just an excuse to watch something burn. They hadn't let her take matches into the arena, and she was getting lonely without her best friend, fire. There was something very soothing about it.

"Thank you." Elita glanced at her then away, turquoise eyes thoughtful. "You're actually pretty useful."

"Yeah. Thanks. I know you only picked me up to piss the Careers off, so I'm glad I'm proving to be 'actually useful'." That came out in a more bitter tone of voice than Fenetre had meant.

Elita's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Fenetre."

"No need. You're planning on winning this, so you might as well be honest."

"Don't you care about winning?"

"Not really." Fenetre regarded the fire thoughtfully, its orange flicker casting shifting shadows on her face. "I only wish I could have created my last explosion before entering the arena. I wanted to make all of District Six part of it. It would have been glorious."

Elita frowned. "Um. You wanted to explode your District?"

"Sure did." Fenetre flashed a smile at her. They were actually have a conversation, she realized. A real conversation about something other than Melinda.

"That's interesting." The District Two girl looked up at the sky. "Well, maybe you'll get to use some explosives before this is over."

* * *

_"Mommy?" The little girl crawled out from under the bed, shaking all over with fear. "Mommy? Daddy?"_

_There was a trail of blood leading out of the room. She followed it, light blue eyes wide and terrified. This wasn't something that was supposed to happen._

_Her mother lay with her back against the wall, blue eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling, unseeing. Her entrails spilled out over her lap, blood congealing in a dark puddle in her lap and on the hardwood floor. The girl stood in the doorway for several long seconds, staring at her dead mother._

_With a face that might have been carved of stone for all the emotion it showed, she made her way into the living room. Her baby brother lay in the corner, the back of his skull a ruined mess of bone and brain. Smears of blood and grey bits on the wall marked where he had been thrown and where he had slid to the floor._

_She regarded this for several long seconds, still emotionless, then turned to the last body in the room. Her father lay in the doorway, arms wide as if he had tried to shield his family from the killers. There was a stab wound in his chest, his formerly white shirt soaked in blood, but there was no sign of the knife that had taken his life._

_The girl knelt beside him, running her fingers through the blood that had pooled beneath him. Then she lifted her head, blue eyes bright and tearless._

_"I am coming for you. You will pay for killing my family."_

_She stood and walked out, leaving her dead family behind. She had some killers to punish. And they would die in just as much pain as her family had. Perhaps she should disembowel one of them as well, as they had done to her mother. _

Sheila opened her eyes, aware that her forehead was soaked with sweat and her heart was pounding. But there was no point in showing any outward signs of her distress. That would look bad in front of the cameras.

She stood, making sure her knife was still buckled to her belt. That dream... it was a familiar one, one that she had nearly every night. That had happened. She had been six. The promise of revenge had not been fulfilled until she was thirteen... but it had been fulfilled. Every single person that had been there on that night of blood had died in all the painful ways she had spent years dreaming of.

Killing had been her profession ever since. The Mafia Boss had decided that having an innocent little girl take care of the dirty work did much to dispel suspicions and erase trails- no one suspected a kid like her to have the capacity to murder.

She had found that killing was something she could enjoy. It was one of the few times that she felt something other than the cold steel she had been since that day ten years ago when she watched her mother bleed to death, eviscerated in front of her.

* * *

"They're talking about overthrowing the captain. Maybe you ought to court-martial them for that."

Taristia stared at Primo. "What?"

"Should I talk more slowly so you will comprehend me?" His mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.

"No!" Gods, if Primo talked any more slowly she might actually strangle him. "They're traitors, then. We'll kill them first chance we get."

"I think I might have a better idea. You shall get your revenge, but..." He leaned in and whispered something into her ear.

Taristia smiled, then faltered. "But is it worth the delay? By then, who knows what will have happened..."

"Don't worry. I can arrange for something to happen tomorrow that will make it clear that they have to stick with us for now, at least." A slow smile crossed his face. "They are playing right into my hands, captain."

_And so are you. So are you._

* * *

**17) Caden Russell (killed by mutt): I realized that he pretty much showed up to die. I'm sorry. But he wasn't ever going to make it very far! I don't think very many people knew he existed anyways.**

**ALLIANCES: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Quarry, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Taylor, Sheila (loner), Rowan (loner), Fionn/Branwell, Fenetre/Elita**

******Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.**


	17. This Day We Fight

**Night Three Part One**

* * *

According to Melinda's internal clock (which was by no means accurate), it was about seven in the morning. The arena sky was just as dark as it had been that first day. And she was a good deal more freaked out by it now than she had been during the bloodbath.

There had been dreams, just like there had been dreams for the others. Hers hadn't been too clear- running in the dark, drowning, dying- but they'd been pretty terrifying. And from the way the others slept, restless and letting out tiny sounds every now and then... she was willing to bet that they, too, had nightmares.

It was just something about the arena.

A sound from behind her made her stand, hand going to the knife she had laid on a nearby rock. She kicked the nearest sleeping bag.

"What?" Quarry's head poked out, eyes wide and instantly alert. "Did you hear something?"

"Yeah." Melinda pointed into the forest, where the sounds of something moving were getting closer. And it didn't just sound like _one_ thing, either, it sounded like a whole lot of things.

Quarry grabbed her sword. "Wake the others. Now." There was a nervous urgency to her voice that terrified Melinda. She hurried over to where the others slept.

Within thirty seconds they all stood there, ready for anything, weapons out. Taristia had an arrow nocked to her bow, Cainan and Ryder both had their swords, and Primo had his double-blade-thing going. He was also awake, for once- a step up from the normal situation, as far as Melinda was concerned.

"What's coming?" Cainan asked. Melinda could hear the faint quaver of fear in his voice.

"Mutts. An army of them." Primo seemed awfully calm about it. Melinda saw Taristia glance up at him, mouth half-open as if she was about to say something, then look away as if thinking better of it.

_They know something. Those two... there's some sort of hidden motive here. _She would not, in fact, be surprised if it turned out that Primo had planned this mutt invasion. But surely that was impossible.

There was a bone-chilling howl as a... a _something_ crested the hill, riding what might have once been a wolf. Melinda couldn't keep a soft shriek from escaping her lips. Then another hulking shape appeared... and another... and another...

"How many of them are there?" Ryder asked, incredulous, hand shaking a bit.

"Form up!" Primo grabbed the District Two boy and forced him back into the group. "We fight back to back! Don't let them any closer than you have to!"

The mutts- which were human-like in shape, with fangs and skin so dirty it was impossible to tell what color their skin had been- began to creep closer, encircling the six Careers. There were dozens of them, all snarling at them with crazed, bestial eyes. And they had weapons, too- rusty but deadly sharp swords, daggers. They rode misshapen beasts with red eyes and rough, tan fur, wide eyes and wicked fangs.

"Primo..." Melinda turned to the District Four boy, terror making her heart race. "There's no way we can beat them!"

Taristia opened her mouth (no doubt to deliver a stinging insult for her cowardice), but Primo held up a hand, forestalling her. He looked down at Melinda with an almost kind expression.

"We can always beat them. We're Careers, after all. The day may come when we do fall, when our courage fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship... but it is _not this day_." Primo looked into her eyes as if he could will away the fear in them. "This day we fight. Together."

The others nodded, swept up in Primo's soft, determined words. And Melinda did have to admit that the boy was a very convincing speaker. She might have almost believed him, if it wasn't for the cold, calculating light in his eyes, the light that she alone seemed able to see. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought that he had prepared that as a speech for this exact moment.

The first mutt lept at Taristia and was felled with a twang of her bow. It crashed to the ground, an arrow in its eye socket.

"Nice one, captain!" Primo casually beheaded one of the wolf-mutts and everything devolved into utter chaos. Melinda heard herself screaming as she swung her knives at one of the humanoid mutts, sending a spray of black blood into the air. Next to her, Ryder was borne down under the weight of one of the wolf-things.

She whirled, ready to attack, but Taristia got there first. With a soft grunt, the District Four girl hurtled into the wolf, driving it off of Ryder and to the ground. The two of them, girl and beast, rolled over and over in a fight for dominance.

"Hold your ground!" Primo yelled as Ryder stumbled back to his feet, wiping blood off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Cainan was engaged in a swordfight with the mutt that seemed to be the leader. It was massive, with scaly pinkish skin and one eye scarred shut. Melinda stumbled back, panting, marveling at the speed with which the two of them exchanged blows. There was a savage, violent look on her District partner's face that she had never seen before.

Quarry was thrown backwards against one of the stone trees, driving the breath out of her. One of the humanoid mutts approached, leering, pressing its sword against her throat.

Ryder was there in a flash, knocking the mutt's sword aside and attacking with abandon, driving the mutt back in a flurry of strikes. He was bleeding from several wounds and panting, but he stood with his body between the mutt and Quarry, who was staggering to her feet.

Melinda cut down another mutt, aware that they had managed to halve the number of initial attackers. Not bad for six frightened kids alone in the woods at night. Then again, these didn't seem to be very quality mutts- though one of them had managed to swipe her shoulder with its claws. The wound was a bit annoying, as it impaired her ability to swing her sword.

"Captain!"

She spun. Taristia was pinned against a tree by one of the wolf-mutts, knife struck from her hand. Weaponless and very much overmatched, the District Four girl snarled up at the wolf, using only her bare hands to keep the snapping jaws from her face.

Primo lept into the air, landing squarely on the mutt's back. It withdrew, snapping its jaws and twisting its head in an attempt to reach the boy. With a soft laugh, Primo drove both of his sword into the base of the wolf-mutt's skull. It fell, thrashing, and he lept free, sheathing his blades.

Melinda realized that the clearing was quiet again. Dark shapes lay scattered about- wolf-mutts and humanoid-mutts. Piles of the dead. And all six of them were still standing.

"I hope someone realizes how insanely lucky we just were," Ryder gasped, leaning on his sword. Blood dripped down his face from a wound on his head.

Cainan shoved the body of a dead wolf off of him and sat up. "We just killed an army of mutts."

"Way to state the obvious." Quarry's leg was bleeding where one of the wolves had savaged her with its razor sharp claws, but the District Seven girl showed no sign of discomfort.

"Those weren't normal mutts." Melinda shook her head, horrified. "They looked like humans. Or like they used to be human."

"Human in shape but a beast in mind." Taristia nudged one of the bodies with her foot. "Mutts. Dammit, that's not fair. They shouldn't be allowed to send an army after us."

"Obviously they thought we could handle it." Primo looked almost amused by all this.

* * *

"What _were_ those?" Taristia shook her head, pouring a bit of water from her bottle over a long cut on her arm.

"Warg riders," Primo replied.

Taristia frowned. "A nightmare?"

"Perhaps." The taller boy glanced over to where the others lay, tending to their wounds. "I figured out the arena while ago, captain. It makes dreams come to life. And what better way to force them to trust us than to give us a common enemy?"

"But how?"

"I figured out how to manipulate the arena. It's fairly easy once you think about it, no? They must have some sort of neural sensor on us, digging through our subconscious to find that which we fear most. And I have always been a master of my subconscious."

"I still don't get it."

Primo looked annoyed. "The arena. Once the Gamemakers see our worst nightmare- that must be what the dreams are, their scanners going through out mind- they give them life. These were physical beings, right? They are mutts... and they are our worst nightmares. And thus you can make what you want come to life... if you can trick them into thinking that's your nightmare. Get it?"

Taristia nodded. "Yes, I think so. There's no need to tell the others this, Primo."

"Of course, captain."

* * *

"Looks like someone's confident," Kushana noted. "Does he think he figured it out?"

Isis adjusted her glasses, peering up at her fellow Gamemaker. "There's more. He got part of it, though."

"Only to be expected from a Career like him," Azuki sighed. "Looks like we might have to initiate some of our other plans sooner than we had anticipated. Dany?"

The Head Gamemaker nodded. "Not yet. But soon."

* * *

**ALLIANCES: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Quarry, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Taylor, Sheila (loner), Rowan (loner), Fionn/Branwell, Fenetre/Elita**

**Career-centric chapter! **

**Review please.**


	18. The Edge of Night

**Night Three Part Two**

* * *

Sheila was walking through a dark glade, all alone... except for the ghosts.

She wasn't even really sure whether she was awake or asleep anymore. It was all the same, here- dark and full of death. The only difference was that sometimes they left her alone when she was asleep.

The faces of those she had killed floated before her, insubstantial as mist, but still there. She batted at one of them listlessly, dispersing it for only an instant. They always reformed, they always came back and watched her, waited and watched, as if preparing to welcome her into whatever came after death.

"I'm not coming to you yet," she whispered, aware that she was talking to herself, something that could be considered insanity. "I'm not dead yet. So leave me alone."

The eyes continued to watch her.

* * *

"Have you dreamt at all, princess?" Ike asked, rubbing his forehead.

"We have," NyuuLucy replied, nodding. "But I am the bearer of pain. What the others dream, I take on. Thus the pain is only felt by me. It is a most convenient arrangement."

"That's not fair."

"That I have to be the dreamer? Well, we all bear pain of a different sort. Death has to captain us, Lucy has to have her voices... and Timothy has to be the voice of reason, which God knows is the hardest job of all." This last was said with a light, amused tone and a glimmer of laughter in her gold eyes. "Do you dream?"

"Sure! But I beat them up with my MUSCLES, AW YEAH!"

"...is that even possible?"

Ike shrugged. "Muscles. Aw. Yeah."

* * *

_"If you could be anyone else in the world, who would you be?"_

Rowan shook his head. This was weird. He was starting to hear voices. And this particular voice was that of Darlya, the sister who seemed to think she was worthy of his attention, for some strange reason. Simply because she was his only living blood relative did not put her on an equal level with him. No one was his equal.

He remembered what he had said to her, that summer day so long ago. _Why would I want to be anyone else? I am an example of a superior human being. One day this will all be mine._

She had snorted. _"Stupid Rowan. You have no imagination."_

But that wasn't true. If he had really had no imagination, this arena wouldn't be able to affect him. And it could- his sister's voice was an example of that.

He wondered where Quarry was, if she was still part of the Careers. If so, it might be amusing to go after her and kill her. Certainly it would take his mind off the ghosts of the past.

* * *

_She was falling through a dark world, weightless, hair swirling about her face. Above her, the light wavered through the water, too far above. She couldn't reach it, was in fact powerless to move._

_Her breath rushed out of her, silvery bubbles pouring from her mouth. Eyes wide, she watched them float up through the water. The iron bands around her lungs were cinching tight, driving everything from her. Her blood pounded loud in her ears and her head spun, vision going red and black as her body fought to survive without oxygen._

Not again. Please. Make it stop.

_Her body went limp, falling even deeper, but somehow she still saw, still felt. Everything was getting dark as she drifted down, further from the light. She heard her heart stop beating._

She sat bolt upright, panting, on the verge of a scream. Taking deep, gasping breaths of the cold night air that wasn't water, wasn't death, she reached for her not-ally.

"Don't let me fall asleep. Don't you let me fall asleep." Fionn grabbed Branwell's arm, dragging him closer, eyes wide and desperate.

_I can't fall asleep. If I dream of drowning one more time I swear I will break. I'll go freaking insane. It's not even funny._

"Fionn?" Her District partner looked understandably surprised. She hadn't even acknowledged his existence for the past five hours, and now she was begging him for help. Well. It was a bit embarrassing, but she'd do anything to keep from having that dream again.

"I can't take it anymore!" Her voice broke on the last word and she winced. "Every single time I close my eyes, it comes back. I can't deal with it."

"Dreams?" Branwell's voice was soft and kind as he looked at her, brown eyes haunted by the same fear she felt. She realized that he, too, rarely slept anymore.

"Nightmares." She shuddered, pulling him closer into a sitting position next to her. "Keep me awake. I don't care how you do it, just keep me awake." There was something about the darkness that surrounded them that made her want to lay her head down and close her eyes... but if she gave into that she'd dream again.

He took a deep breath. "Poetry. I've been reciting poetry to stay awake. I have millions of them in my head."

"So teach me one." She paused. "What was that one you told me yesterday? About shadows fading?"

A smile crossed his face, the first she'd seen from him in days. It made him look even younger than he was, and Fionn felt a stab of pity. Why had she hated him so much? He was a nice little boy, that was all.

He began to speak and she repeated him, trying to commit the words to memory to stay awake. "Home is behind, the world ahead. And there are many paths to tread-"

_Like here. Into the arena. That was one path... and it ends in death._

"Through shadow, to the edge of night. Until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow, cloud and shade, all shall fade. All shall fade." He smiled at her.

"Do you really think this will ever end?" she asked, voice so soft she herself could barely hear.

"Everything ends eventually. One way or another, we all end up in the same place. Death."

"Yes, and some of us get there sooner than others, Three," an unfamiliar voice said suddenly from the shadows behind Branwell. Fionn screamed, bolting to her feet, then froze when she saw the gleam of cold steel pressed against her District partner's neck. Branwell gulped visibly, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he squinted at the knife.

The District Two girl stepped into the light from the path, smiling slightly. "I heard voices. And look at what I found: two innocent, scared little tributes! Are you two allies?"

"Yes," Branwell muttered.

"No," Fionn said at the same time. Branwell looked up at her, amused even now.

"Make up your mind, eh?" Elita pressed the knife in a bit, breaking Branwell's skin. A trickle of blood ran down his neck and he flinched. "I'd stay still if I was you, sweetheart," she spat. "My knife is pretty damn sharp."

"Elita!" The District Six girl stepped out of the trees. She looked at Branwell and Fionn, surprised, then continued. "If you're gonna kill them, hurry it up. Stop being a bitch and dragging it out. That's something Four would do."

Fionn glared at her. "So you're with this Career, are you? You're just as bad as her."

Fenetre's eyes flashed. "Just kill them already, Elita."

"Gladly." Her knife flashed down. Fionn sprang forward with a cry, but Branwell had already fallen to the side, blood pumping from his torn throat.

"Damn you!" she snarled, drawing her own knife and launching herself at Elita. The District Two girl knocked her to the side with maddening ease, barely even looking at her. Fionn collapsed next to Branwell, tears suddenly rising in her eyes. Fenetre moved forward, picking up the fallen blade as if meaning to kill Fionn, but Elita held up a hand to stop her.

"Leave it. She's alone now anyways. No one to keep her awake." And from the gleam in her eyes, Fionn knew that Elita had heard her entire conversation with Branwell.

The two of them faded into the forest as silently as they had come, leaving Fionn alone by the dying boy's side.

"I'm so sorry, Bran," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." Tears coursed down her face freely now as if some floodgate had lifted. Normally she would have been shamed by such a display of weakness, but nothing like that mattered right now.

"It's not your fault," he whispered, somehow still able to talk. "Don't cry, Fionn..." He reached up as if to wipe away her tears, but was too weak to do much more than twitch.

She sobbed and wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the blood that spilled over her shirt.

"Allies?" he whispered, smiling up at her. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as his eyes glazed over with pain.

"Allies." And she took his hand and held it as he closed his eyes.

* * *

**16) Branwell Anisson (killed by Elita): I realized at some point that my spelling of his last name was a bit inconsistent... my apologies. Wait! That can't be the only thing I have to say about this guy! He was a great kid, really, and I had so much fun making references through him, but... definitely too weak to get very far. Poor Fionn, though...**

**ALLIANCES: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Melinda/Ryder/Quarry, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Taylor, Sheila (loner), Rowan (loner), Fionn (loner), Fenetre/Elita**

**Review please.**


	19. To Find and Lose

**Night Four Part One**

* * *

"You've killed what, two people? If Four hasn't gotten anyone since the bloodbath, that ties you two up."

Elita didn't even look up at Fenetre. "So? It doesn't matter what that bitch does. It's not like she'd going to win."

"Yeah, but..."

"Can you shut up?" Elita turned on her ally, annoyance crossing her face. Dammit, why couldn't Fenetre stop it with that eager puppy-dog face? She wasn't interested in forming any kind of relationship here, friendship or otherwise. The sooner the District Six girl realized that and stopped trying to talk to her, the better.

A shadow of disappointment flickered in Fenetre's eyes, but she hid it behind a bright smile. "Okay, then. I'll go... play with some matches, then."

"Good for you." Elita did have to wonder why she was still allied with the pyromanic. Doing it just to spite Taristia had stopped working once they entered the arena, and it wasn't as if Fenetre was very helpful here.

It was painfully obvious why Fenetre stayed, despite Elita's constant sniping. That look in her eyes... it was the same look that Elita knew she had every time she thought of Melinda.

_Nice little love triangle we've got going here, huh? Me and Melinda... who isn't even here... and her tagging along like she thinks I'll pay attention._

If this hadn't been the Hunger Games, she could go talk to Melinda right now. She was almost positive that the District One girl felt the same way- hadn't she responded during training?- but in the arena, you couldn't risk things like that. And once it was down to the last two, Elita knew she'd kill whoever the last person was... even if it was Melinda.

Because this was the Hunger Games. There was no escape without a bit of death.

* * *

"Are you frightened, Taylor?" Auden asked, scratching a design in the dirt with a stone twig. The two of them had moved camp for the fifteenth time since entering the arena, and Taylor was staring off into the darkness with those wide, nearly colorless eyes.

"Frightened?" she echoed. "What is that?"

"When you..." Ah, this was frustrating. Might as well go with the dictionary definition here. "An unpleasant feeling... like something bad's about to happen, something that might cause pain. Or death."

She considered this in the curious way she had, squatting back on her heels and tilting her head to one side. "Then... no. And yes. I am frightened, but not of disappearing." By that she usually meant death.

"Then what are you afraid of?"

"The place when I sleep."

"Dreams?" He, too, had dreamt... and they were such strange dreams. Dreams of him running through the forest, alone, calling her name. And she never answered. Not something that anyone normal would have found terrifying, but he woke time and again with cold sweat on his brow, heart pounding, hand reaching to the side to make sure she was still there.

"Dreams."

Auden looked at her, pale in the starlight, and something stirred in him that might have been love. "I've been dreaming too."

_But when I see you, it's a good dream._

"I know." Taylor regarded him solemnly. "You look for me. You call my name."

He flushed. "I do?"

"It's okay. I'm here." She crawled over and leaned against him as if trying to soak up his warmth. "You found me."

"That's right. I found you." He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her silken hair, breathing in the dusty scent of her skin.

_I found you and I'll never let you get lost. Ever._

* * *

_This can't continue. We can't just keep sitting here, hiding, pretending everything's like normal. Don't you see? The dreams are starting to affect us all. If we don't get out of here..._

_Calm down, Death. Nyuu can hold on a bit longer. _Timothy's softly accented voice was strained, despite his calming words. The leading voice turned on him, silver eyes flashing.

_But how long can she hold? And after that? Once she breaks... what'll happen to Lucy?_

The sixteen year old personality lifted her head. _I'm stronger than you give me credit for, Death. You can't always protect me, anyways._

_But I can try. _Her voice was determined.

_Guys? _Nyuu's childish voice broke in. _As long as you stay awake... as long as one of you stays awake... you can pull me out of the dream. That might buy us time._

_Oh, Nyuu. _Timothy sent a comforting wave to the child. _I'm so sorry that you have to bear this pain. We'll help you. We promise._

_Besides, _Lucy cut in, _there's always Ike. We can trust him. _

_Muscle Boy is stupid, _Death said scornfully.

_Ike's nice! _Nyuu protested.

_I like him, too, _Timothy replied. _You're a bit unfair, Death._

_I'm realistic. There's a difference._

_I know why you won't let yourself- let us- get close to him, _Lucy accused. _You're afraid to have him only to lose him._

_He must die in order for us to win. Which means that we will lose him no matter what. For such is the way of it, to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the flowing stream._

* * *

Primo watched Cainan unwrapping a roll of bandages that had descended from the sky in a silver parachute, the District One boy talking cheerfully to Quarry. The tension that had ben present among the six of them had not disappeared, but since the mutt incident, there had been very little unrest.

And it was his doing.

Something about successfully manipulating everyone- the other Careers, the Gamemakers- gave him a light-hearted feeling he rarely felt. And it was still going on. Telling Taristia about his 'plan'... if the Gamemakers thought that he would ever be stupid enough to say something like that on _live television_, then they were very mistaken.

They should've known he was smarter than that.

As long as they thought they knew what he was doing, they'd be trying to avoid traps on that level of his plot. But if he operated on the deeper levels of the plan, he could outflank them, outthink them... and beat them.

_Wheels within wheels. They'll never catch me._

The District Four boy watched his alliance live their lives, bickering and laughing and tending their wounds. For now, there was peace.

He intended to shatter that peace very, very soon.

Starting tomorrow, they would begin to die.

* * *

**No deaths this time, sorry. But Happy New Year, everybody! I won't be updating tomorrow.**

**Who's left: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Ryder/Melinda/Quarry, Elita/Fenetre, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Taylor, Fionn, Sheila, Rowan**

**ElitaMelindaFenetre love triangle might be an important plot point.**

******Review please.**


	20. Where I Can't Follow

**Night Four Part Two**

* * *

Fionn rocked back and forth, hands clasped over her ears, trying to block out the world. The shadows swirled around her, calling her name over and over. Calling her with Branwell's voice. The voice of the ally she had been unable to protect, the boy who was dead.

_Allies? Are we allies, Fionn?_

"Go away!" she gasped. "You're dead!"

_Then why can you hear me, Fionn? Why are you talking to me?_

She sat up straight, some of her old determination blazing in her eyes. "Because you are a construct of the Gamemakers. Therefore you are, in a sense, real. However, you are not the spirit of a dead boy. There is nothing after death. Nothing."

_Oh, really?_

"That would be illogical. Once biological functions have ceased, there is no consciousness. Therefore there is nothing to survive. You are something created by the Gamemakers, so you're fake. And since I'm always right, you might as well go away now." There. It was almost like normal, that commanding tone of voice.

_Want me to recite some poetry for you, Fionn? I know millions. Trillions. It helps me stay awake._ There was a mocking tone in the voice, something she had never heard from Branwell while he lived. Further proof that this was something the Gamemakers had set up just to freak her out.

"I don't need your poems to stay awake. I have the one Branwell taught me. So go away." She closed her eyes, hoping that was enough.

_Here's a poem you could relate to. 'Cold be hand and heart and bone/and cold be sleep under stone/never more to wake on stony bed...'_

"Shut up."

_'...never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead',_ the voice that wasn't Branwell's continued maliciously, sensing her weakness. '_In the black wind the stars shall die,/and here on gold still you will lie/till the dark lord lifts his hand/over dead sea and withered land'._

Fionn bit her lip, refusing to respond to this. If she just ignored it, maybe it would go away.

_Lovely poem, isn't it? I might have altered it a bit to fit you personally. But I'd do anything for you, Fionn, because we're allies, aren't we?_

"Leave me!" She shot to her feet, furious. "How dare you defile his memory like this? Leave now and _never come back_!"

Silence. Shaking, she sank to her knees, eyes wide, heart pounding. Was it gone? Was it?

"Branwell?"

Her only answer was the wind in the stone branches above her head.

* * *

"Auden, wake up."

Taylor's high, terrified voice shook Auden from the half-sleep he had fallen into. Something about this arena just knocked him right out- he'd never slept this much before. Maybe it was just that it was always dark. Or maybe there was some kind of sedative in the air.

"What's the matter?" he asked, squinting.

"There's something out there."

"Where?" He stood, hand going to the one knife their alliance had. Then something moved in the shadows and he froze. "Yeah. That. I see that."

The thing- whatever it was- approached with deadly silence, huge shape blotting out the stars behind it. It easily towered over both District Five tributes, coming about halfway up the trunks of the taller stone trees. There was a slight chittering sound as it moved, like pincers snapping together repeatedly, but there was no other sound.

The light from the path fell on it and Taylor gasped. Auden had to resist the urge to scream at the sight of the bulbous, multi-eyed head that surveyed them, black eyes glittering.

"Yup. Just our luck. We get stalked by some creep giant... bug-thing. Get behind me." Auden tightened his grip on the knife, trying to ignore the fact that he had no idea how to use it.

It came on faster than he had expected, given its size. A giant spider in form, so dark it stood out even against the surrounding blackness. Eight chitinous legs, a long, smooth carapace, and those flat, shining eyes. Insect eyes. That was something that had always creeped Auden out.

"Is that a... spider?" Taylor asked, curious.

"Yes. But they don't usually get that big." Auden licked his lips nervously. "Look, if something happens to me, promise you'll run away?"

"But-"

Whatever Taylor had been about to say was lost as the giant spider charged. Auden threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding getting stepped on by it. The clawed foot crashed into the dirt beside him with a dull thump and he realized just how _big_ this thing was.

The knife had flown from his hand, knocked out by the shock as he hit the ground. He scrabbled in the dirt for it, on his stomach, frantic. He'd lost track of where Taylor was and could only hope she had had the sense to hide somewhere.

Something behind him snapped, and there was an excruciating pain in his back. Screaming, he tried to twist around, but this only made it worse. Blood splashed the ground in front of him and he felt it welling up in his mouth- the spider had stepped on him, driving its foot straight through him.

Distantly, he noted the irony of that- getting stepped on by a bug, just as he'd crushed insects beneath his shoes almost every day of his life. But he was in a bit too much pain to really focus on deep, meaningful thoughts like that.

"Auden!"

He tried to respond to Taylor's desperate scream, but his mouth seemed to be occupied with howling in agony at the moment and refusing to form intelligible words. That might have had something to do with the fact that he had just gotten impaled. Just a guess, there.

He saw Taylor's pale hand close around the blade as she stood, facing the giant spider.

The bug turned and bore down on her. She shrieked and struck out blindly, actually closing her eyes as she did so. It was a lucky blow, though- one of the spider's eyes exploded in a burst of goo, spattering the ground with a foul smelling liquid. Squealing, the spider retreated, withdrawing its leg from Auden's back. The boy took a deep shuddering breath, sending a few more waves of pain through him like twisting knives.

"Auden?" Taylor knelt beside him, head tilted to one side, a curious look on her face. "There's blood on you."

The urge to scream was still there, but removed. He looked up at her, world blurring around him. "Taylor..."

"The spider's gone, so you can get up now." She smiled at him. "That was what you call 'scary', right?"

"Taylor."

"Yes, Auden?" She gazed at him, wide-eyed, and he wondered how long she'd survive on her own.

"I can't get up."

"Do you need me to help you?"

God, she still didn't understand. "No. I can't get up because I... I'm dying." That wasn't fun to say. Not at all.

"What?" Understanding flashed across her face. "But you can't! You can't just leave me, Auden!"

"Listen to me, Taylor." It was getting harder to talk. His mouth was going numb, as was the rest of him. Good, because the pain was fading along with everything else. "You need to try and survive because I'm not going to be there to help..."

Taylor's arms crept around him, the girl seeming not to mind the blood that was literally everywhere. "You helped me, Auden. You did. And now I'm going to help you. So stay still."

"No." He grabbed her hand, then tilted his head up to look into her eyes. And then, with the last of his strength, he reached up, bloody hand streaking her hair with red, and pulled her head down. Their lips met hard enough to bruise, hers rough and chapped, his slick with blood.

"You found me, Auden," Taylor whispered as he fell back, unable to keep his head up. "So you don't have to have bad dreams anymore."

"I found you. And I'll never lose you again," he agreed faintly.

"Don't leave me, Auden. Don't go where I can't follow." There were tears in her eyes now, and she blinked them away as if surprised to feel them there. He wondered if she had ever cried before.

He opened his mouth, wanting to comfort her, but her face was spinning away into the darkness and she was suddenly so far away. His lungs refused to expand and he could hear his heartbeat slowing...

The cannon boomed.

* * *

**15) Auden Ringer: aw, poor Taylor's alone now. Looks like the alliances are dying off :3 I'm ripping apart everyone's OTPs here, sorry... but a shipping moment right at the end should help with that...**

**Reminder that Primo's epic plan is set to go into action tomorrow (er, in the story, not literally I'm-updating-tomorrow, though I might. Anyways.) so look forward to that!**

**Who's left: Taristia/Primo/Cainan/Ryder/Melinda/Quarry, Elita/Fenetre, Ike/Lucy, Taylor, Fionn, Sheila, Rowan**

**Yeah, so, people have noticed that some people seem to get dreams more easily than others, so I'll just point out that the pattern is loners tend to get them more easily because they're, well, alone. So there's less distractions. Which is why the Careers just get a random mutt army that's easy to defeat and everyone else gets giant spiders and stuff. Make sense?**

**Review please.**


	21. Rain of Blood

**Night Five Part One**

* * *

"What're we doing today?" Cainan asked. The the District One boy glanced at their surroundings, a cynical smile on his face. "I mean tonight. What're doing tonight?"

"Hunting someone?" Quarry asked, a hopeful look on her face. "We haven't gone after anyone yet."

Taristia shrugged. "Well, we can always hunt someone if we get bored."

"Where's Primo?"

"What?" Taristia stood, looking at Melinda, then around the circle. "Wasn't he here?"

"Maybe he's still asleep," Ryder said with a touch of scorn in his voice. "Or didn't he have last watch? Maybe he wandered off to take a nap or something. Seems like something that he would do, since he's such a-"

The tip of a sword pressed into the back of his neck and the District Two boy froze, mouth half-open, falling silent.

"What am I?" Primo asked, stepping into the circle. "Pray continue, Ryder. I am entranced by your wit."

"Never mind." Ryder shook his head, batting Primo's sword away. "I didn't say anything. We were just wondering where you were, that's all."

"I found someone you might be interested in, captain," he addressed Taristia. "Remember the District Two girl? The one we kicked out?"

Melinda's head snapped up, hope and interest blazing in her eyes. Taristia glanced at her, a small smile spreading across her face as she saw that.

"The one I said Melinda could kill?"

"Elita?" Melinda said at the same time. "You found Elita?"

"Oh, lookit that. She's so in love, it's pathetic." This was Ryder, a teasing note in his voice. Melinda glared at him, hand creeping to the hilt of her knife.

"Shut up."

"Oh, stop fighting. We're all friends here, huh?" Primo's grin suggested otherwise, but that didn't matter. "Let's go kill them, okay?"

Taristia met Melinda's eyes. "Kill anyone with her, but bring Elita to me alive. I want Melinda to kill her. And if she can't manage to do that, I'll kill them both."

* * *

The sound of footsteps made Elita look up. The Careers were coming, just as she had expected for the past five days. Good. She had been missing the rush she got whenever she fought someone. She'd take them two at a time if she needed to.

Turning to Fenetre with a grin, she said, "Go. Run. I'll stay and fight- it's better if I don't have to look out for you."

Rather than look insulted, Fenetre seemed relieved. The District Six girl was gone in a hearbeat, disappearing into the darkness.

But as the sound of the hunting Careers drew closer, Elita's heart sank a bit. There was no way she could fend off all six of them at once- she'd hope that only three or four would be after her. Reason demanded that she, too, run away- but it was far too late now.

Seeing no alternative, she ducked into the shadowy hole at the base of one of the stone trees. Its roots formed a tiny cave-like space, and she curled up in this, clutching her knife and praying that none of them found her cowering here like a trapped animal. Of course, if anyone did find her, she could just kill them.

"Where'd they go?" Taristia's enraged voice reached Elita's ears. "They can't have gone far. Find them!"

She could hear the Careers separating, six pairs of footsteps going in six different directions. One set approached her and she flinched, ready to leap out and fight if whoever it was saw her. A booted pair of feet paused next to her tree. Elita tightened her grip on the knife.

Melinda's face appeared in the gaps between the roots. Their eyes met and held for several long seconds. Elita felt her heart speed up- and it wasn't from fear.

_Is she going to betray me?_

Of course not. The District One girl cared about Elita- that had been made very clear during training- and Elita had kept that option open for this exact reason. If Melinda cared enough about her, she wouldn't want her to die.

"See anything?" Taristia's voice echoed through the trees and Melinda straightened up very quickly. Elita saw her feet hurrying away towards where the District Four girl's voice came from.

"N-no. There's nothing," the District One girl stammered. Elita winced at how badly she lied.

"Oh, really?" Taristia's voice was sharp, a whipcrack in the darkness. "I don't think I believe you." There was the sound of a blade being drawn and a soft whimper from Melinda- Elita assumed that Taristia had her knife to the girl's throat.

"I..."

"Tell the truth! You saw her! Where is she?"

"I won't tell." There was quiet determination in Melinda's voice. Elita closed her eyes, knowing that the girl told the truth... and also knowing that Taristia knew.

"Then die."

A choked off scream of pain. The sound of Melinda's body falling to the ground. Elita stuffed her fist into her mouth to keep from crying out.

Taristia's footsteps faded as the District Four girl walked away, somehow not seeing Elita's hiding spot. As soon as she was sure it was safe, Elita scrambled out of the root cave and threw herself down next to Melinda, not sure what she was going to do now.

"You protected me," she whispered, taking in the deep cut that ran across Melinda's throat. Blood pumped from the torn veins, soaking into the ground.

What she didn't say was this: protecting someone, dying for love... that was stupid. It wasn't something Elita would have done. In the arena, love wasn't something you should die for. Nor was it ever. But for some reason, the tears still rose in her eyes and over her cheeks as she stared down at the bloody girl before her.

Melinda reached up weakly, grasping Elita's hand with her own bloodstained one. "Tell me... tell me you love me."

"I love you," Elita gasped through the tears. And it was true, and now that Melinda was dying she could admit it to herself because it didn't matter anymore. "I love you. I love you. I lo-" The cannon boomed. "Melinda!"

"Oh, how cute," a mocking voice said from the shadows. "Looks like her love wasn't unrequited after all. Too bad she had to go after you- she'd have been much safer sticking with me." Ryder's sword gleamed in the starlight as he drew it, smiling at Elita.

Something flashed in Elita's turquoise eyes. One Career. Just one. She could take him on, no problem. She stood, dashing away the tears and stepping away from Melinda's body. Reason crept back in- love wasn't something she should be caring about in the Hunger Games, where there was only death. Now that Melinda was dead, she could move on to more important things.

Like winning, for instance.

"She was weak. Acting like love mattered more than life." She wasn't surprised to hear her own steady voice. Death hadn't ever really been something that upset her. "That kind of person couldn't have won, anyways."

"Well, Taristia did tell Primo that she was going to kill Melinda. And she didn't seem to bother hiding that fact. So maybe she figured if she was going to die anyways, she might as well die for something." Ryder shrugged, spinning his blade in his hand. "At least, that's my theory."

Elita lept at him without warning, knife flashing from her hand and burying itself in his shoulder. He staggered back, blood spurting from the wound.

"Hey, now, that wasn't very nice." He swung the sword, clipping her on the leg. She winced, feeling the warm blood run down her leg. She blocked his next blow fairly easily. His skill was almost laughable to someone like her who had always scored highest at the Academy. What was a weakling like him doing here?

She plunged the knife into his leg and darted back, laughing as he fell, clutching his leg. "How's that feel, Ryder?" When he glared up at her, she chuckled. "Aw, did you really think you could win this?"

"And did you think you would?" a soft voice whispered in her ear. She looked down as something slid out of her stomach, gleaming with her blood. She gasped, choking on the blood rising in her throat.

"Primo!" Ryder seemed very relieved to see his ally. He pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on a nearby tree to avoid putting weight on the leg that had a knife stuck in it. "I was just dealing with this idiot when you showed up."

"Dealing with her very well, I see." Primo's voice dripped with scorn. He yanked his sword from Elita's block, shoving her away. She fell onto her hands and knees, gasping, biting her lip to keep form crying out. Overhead, she heard Primo's footsteps as he approached Ryder.

_If I have to die, I'm taking them with me._ Summoning the last of her strength, she surged to her feet, reaching for her last knife. Primo turned, eyes wide, as she hurtled towards his throat. Then the District Four boy did something she hadn't expected him to do- grab Ryder by the shirt and shove him in the path of the blade.

Ryder's eyes widened as her knife rammed through his throat. Primo tossed him aside casually, then regarded Elita as she, too, sank to the ground.

"Well, that was unexpected. But nice. Thanks, Elita, for killing my ally. I was so hoping that more of them would die, but Fenetre seems to have gotten away. And Taristia and the others were smart enough to chase the weaker member of your alliance." He paused. "You were a worthy foe. Too bad you had to die."

Unable to speak, she glared up at him, trying to make him falter. He stared right back, a small smirk on his face.

"Good night, Elita."

* * *

**14) Melinda Willmore (killed by Taristia): no one seemed to really like her, though I'm not sure why... well, there goes the love triangle. Someone predicted that. I need to stop being so easy to figure out... :3**

**13) Ryder Hall (killed by Elita): Primo's plan worked, kinda. I mean, he got rid of two of his allies. And Elita. All without making it seem like it was really his fault (to those of his alliance that remain, that is). There's probably more to Primo's plan, fear not! More death shall occur!**

**12) Elita Upshow (killed by Primo): never one of my favorites, but she was a pretty good kid. Oh well. I just killed three people in one chapter, hope that doesn't annoy anyone too much.**

**By 'updating tomorrow' I meant today, obviously. Please review both chapters? Probably won't post tomorrow as school starts back up again (nooooooo...). **


	22. Go In Peace

**Night Five Part Two**

* * *

Fenetre supposed that of the three cannons earlier, one of them had been for Elita. And she supposed that she should have been more upset over that- Elita had been an ally, after all, and Fenetre had been rather... _fond_ of her, to say the least. But all of that was a distant concern at the moment, because a much more important discovery had presented itself to her.

A small blue flame danced over her left thumb, wavering in the darkness, fed by no visible source. And she had brought this fire into being with only her mind.

Looked like there was more to this arena than she'd thought.

It made sense, if you thought about it- the logical progression of events was dreaming, dreams coming to life, and then being _in a dream_ at the end. And she had had some dreams where she had known she was dreaming, where she had been able to control events...

How was this any different?

Maybe she would be able to create an explosion. Not yet- this flame was about as big as she could get it- but soon. Very soon.

* * *

"Time for another hunt?" Primo asked, grinning at Taristia. His District partner looked a bit uncertain.

"The last time you said that, two of our allies got killed."

Quarry shrugged. "I dunno, it might be fun."

Cainan looked uncertain.

"It's decided, then." Primo's smile widened.

* * *

The noise of someone- or something- very large crashing clumsily through the brittle stone undergrowth made Rowan leap to his feet, drawing his sword. The path a few yards to the right gave him more than enough light to fight by. If this was, as he suspected, the Careers, they'd be in for a nasty surprise.

He was understandably shocked when, instead of someone like Taristia or Cainan, the two tributes of District Eight burst from among the trees. The girl (whose name was something like Lucia or Lucy, he couldn't remember) seemed to be unconscious, slung over Muscle Boy's shoulder.

The boy's brown eyes flickered with surprise when he saw Rowan standing there, sword drawn.

"Are the Careers after you?" Rowan snapped.

Muscle Boy nodded, forehead wrinkling with worry. "If you try to hurt Lucy I'll have to kill you with my muscles (aw yeah)."

Rowan regarded the bigger boy with a slight expression of disdain. "And yet you flee the Careers rather than stand and fight with your, ah... _muscles_."

"Aw yeah," the District Eight boy added, seemingly instinctually. "Thing is, I can't put her down to fight or she'd get hurt. They snuck up on us and knocked her out before I could stop them."

"Yeah." Rowan's mind had already flashed beyond this to something resembling a plan. "Was Quarry there? With the Careers chasing you?"

"Sure was."

Mind made up, Rowan gestured with his sword. "Run. Get out of here."

"What about you?" Muscle Boy looked honestly concerned.

"I have a traitor to punish." Quarry wouldn't get away with willfully becoming a Career, not while Rowan still drew breath.

"Got it." Muscle Boy shifted Lucy's weight on his shoulder and set off once more at a steady, lumbering pace.

Rowan grinned slightly as the sound of District Eight's retreat faded. He tested the edge of his blade. Let them come. He would punish Quarry... and perhaps some of her erstwhile companions would join her in death.

He didn't have very long to wait. They approached with silent speed from the same direction Muscle Boy and Lucy had come from, the four of them with their weapons out: Taristia, Cainan, Primo... and Quarry.

"Hey, captain, there's a random non-Career in our way. Shall I kill him for you?" the District Four boy asked, eyes gleaming in the dark.

They were getting closer, weapons shining slightly, reflecting the light from the path. But Rowan had eyes only for his District partner. There she was, a smirk on her face, as though she had not been born and raised in the same District as him. Looking at her, he could barely tell her from any of the multitude of Careers through the generations.

He charged Quarry, sword held high. Startled, the shorter girl only just managed to get her own blade up in time to block his blow. Sparks flew as their weapons clanged together.

"What the hell?" she yelled, parrying his second blow. He ignored her.

A noise to his left alerted him to the fact that the District One boy, Cainan, had joined the fray. Rowan twisted, avoiding a near-fatal strike.

"Two on one for a pathetic non-Career, huh?" he spat at Quarry. Her face, which was mostly in shadow, twisted with fury.

There was a sudden, shattering pain in his chest. He looked down in horror to see a black-fletched arrow sticking out of his chest, a few inches right of the center. Looking up, he met Taristia's merciless eyes from over her bow.

_No..._

He sank to his knees, overcome by a wave of pain and weakness. Cainan stepped back as if to give him room to die. Rowan looked up into Quarry's smirking face and narrowed his eyes.

_I'm not going down yet._

He surged to his feet unsteadily, the arrow sticking out of him, still clutching his sword. He drove it through Cainan's stomach, making the District One boy double over with a scream of agony. Wrenching his sword free, he slammed the blade through Cainan's back just to make sure he was dead. A cannon blast confirmed what he already knew.

A second arrow slammed into his chest. This time he was almost knocked to the ground, only just catching himself with one arm. On his knees again, he blocked an overhand blow from Quarry as he staggered to his feet once more.

_I'm dying. But it doesn't matter, as long as I can get Quarry..._

Primo joined in the assault, replacing his fallen ally, looking calm as ever. Rowan met his sword, feeling his arms waver. His vision was starting to blur and the iron tang of blood filled his mouth. His entire body screamed in pain, the agony centered on the two arrows protruding from his chest.

The third arrow buried itself in his stomach, igniting another flash of pain. Still Rowan stood, and he could hear Taristia's frustrated scream as if from a distance. He slashed at Primo, opening a long cut along the taller boy's thigh.

Quarry struck at him again and this time the force of her blow was enough to shatter his sword, breaking it near the hilt. Shards of steel spread across the ground, glittering in the starlight. But the hilt-shard was still sharp enough to fight with.

As he fell back, he slashed at her with the broken blade, slicing her left hand off cleanly at the wrist. A spurt of blood spattered over the ground, soaking into the dirt.

Blood roared in his ears as he wavered, on his knees, broken sword slipping from his bloodstained fingers. Distantly he heard Quarry's agonized screams.

A pair of feet entered his field of vision and he raised his suddenly very heavy head to see Taristia standing in front of him, an arrow notched to her bow and pointed directly at his face. He was panting, gritting his teeth, only just barely keeping himself from crying out in pain. He wouldn't give that kind of satisfaction to her.

"Die already!" the District Four girl snarled. Rowan forced himself to keep his head up despite the pain- he would face death with open eyes.

"Enough." A hand closed around Taristia's wrist, forcing her hand up. The arrow whizzed off harmlessly into the woods, clattering against a stone tree. Taristia spun to glare up at Primo.

"You have no right to stop me!" she raged, wrenching her hand from his grip.

"That's enough, Taristia," the boy repeated slowly. "Can't you see he's dying already?" Primo's dark eyes flickered over Rowan, lingering on the arrows piercing his body, on the dark wetness spreading across his shirt. "At least let him die with honor intact."

For an instant, annoyance and respect warred on her face. Finally she turned away, submitting to the taller boy's will. "Fine," Taristia snapped. "I'll bind Quarry's wrist. We're leaving. If his cannon doesn't fire within the next five minutes, you're dead." She turned and stormed off into the stone forest.

Rowan slowly slumped back against a tree, the red stains on the front of his shirt spreading with alarming speed. He looked up at Primo, blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth.

"I failed," the District Seven boy whispered, unable to express exactly what he felt. _I didn't kill Quarry. I might have wounded her, but I failed to properly punish that traitor to our District._

"No," Primo replied thoughtfully. "You have conquered." He gestured to Cainan's fallen body. "Few have gained such a victory."

Words like this from an enemy startled Rowan for a few seconds. He stared at Primo before deciding it didn't matter. He was dying, after all. He met the District Four boy's eyes through the dark mist that was falling over the world.

"Go in peace," Primo added softly.

Rowan smiled.

The cannon fired.

Primo regarded the fallen boy for a few more moments, completely ignoring the fact that one of his allies also lay dead a few yards away. Then he bent and gently lifted Rowan's shattered sword. The blade was broken unevenly about a foot from the hilt. He regarded it, a slow smile stretching across his face, finally sheathing it in his own belt. Then he turned and walked away, whistling under his breath.

* * *

**11) Cainan Rubin- someone's going to be very pissed about that. Deepest apologies for killing off another Career. But it's all part of Primo's plan. And Primo's plan always (?) works.**

**10) Rowan Lander- it took three arrows, Cainan's death, and Quarry losing her right hand to take him down. Told you he was pretty strong. Intense characters for the win! Plus he made it into the top ten.**

**Congrats to the top nine: Taristia, Primo, Fenetre, Quarry, Sheila, Lucy, Ike, Fionn, and Taylor.**

**Review please?**


	23. The Shadow of the Past

**Night Six Part One**

* * *

Taristia was bent over Quarry, brow furrowed as she regarded the District Seven girl. The bandages wrapped around the stump of her right hand were stained rust-red with drying blood and her skin was pale and feverish. Ever since the fight with Rowan yesterday, Quarry had drifted in and out of fever-sleep, crying out and thrashing around or lying very, very still, almost as though dead.

But Taristia wasn't going to desert her. She'd insisted that Primo let them camp where they were until Quarry recovered. The District Seven girl had a sort of spirit that Taristia could admire, and it would be a shame to lose her so quickly. Quarry deserved better.

"She's dying, captain. Get over it." Primo's eyes were closed as though he were asleep, leaning against a nearby tree.

"Maybe she'll recover. You never know."

"And if she does? There can only be one Victor."

"I know that."

Primo's eyes flicked open and he regarded Taristia. "Do you remember what the District Twelve boy said right before you killed him, captain?"

Taristia's head snapped up, eyes blazing. "What does it matter?"

Primo nodded as if she had confirmed some private theory he'd had. "You have killed often since then, have you not? But you never gave any of the others a chance for last words as you did Maxell."

"So?"

"What was it he said? 'I will never forgive you'... Odd thing to say," Primo mused, ignoring Taristia's anger.

"Why are you talking about this?" There was hurt in her voice, the first he had ever heard from her.

"So you regret it." It wasn't really a question.

"So what if I do?" Her fists clenched as she fought the urge to strike him.

"It's nice to know that you feel something other than spite and contempt, captain, that's all. So when you finally must kill Quarry, you might feel bad about it."

This time she did not restrain herself. There was a sharp crack as her hand connected with his face, snapping his head to the side.

Primo met her eyes, somehow not enraged. "If I have offended you, captain, I cry your pardon."

Letting out a shaky breath, she sank down, sitting on a rock. She felt suddenly drained and very, very tired.

"I don't regret any of the kills I've made. Not Maxell. Not Ollie or Melinda or Rowan. They will die and I will win, because that is the way of the world." A deep breath, because this was harder to say: "And if Quarry cannot recover, I will kill her and save her the indignity of death at the hands of a lesser being."

Primo nodded. "Very good. I expected no less of one such as you, captain."

* * *

Sheila's fingers closed around the sharp end of the stone twig, a droplet of blood welling up and splashing onto the ground.

_This is real. It hurts, so it's real._

As long as she felt pain, this was no dream. And that was a very useful thing to know in an arena where dreams were as vivid as real life... and real life as vague as any dream. A place where the shadows of the past where more real than the present moment.

She had to keep reminding herself that this was nothing. She had felt more fear as a child, watching her mother die before her frightened eyes... but there was no fear now. There was no fear, no joy, nothing that other humans termed 'emotions'. There was only the cold-blooded desire to kill. Because when she killed, she was alive, and when she killed she felt something.

She killed because it hurt, and where there was pain she knew she was alive.

There was a soft pop and the sky to the west lit up with a bright golden light. She froze, staring at it with wide eyes. It was the first light she had seen in this arena besides the eerie light of the paths (which she tried to avoid, now) and the cold, distant starlight. Was this another trap of the Gamemakers?

Something told her that no, where this light was there was another tribute. Someone she could kill.

She set off towards it, determined. Now that they were down to the top nine, victory was almost in sight. She wouldn't jeopardize her own survival by taking stupid risks- that was below someone like her- but killing was necessary.

* * *

"Where are we?"

Ike glanced over at Lucy, looking relieved. "You're awake!"

"Yes. Where are we?" she repeated, sitting up. Her eyes were silver- Death was speaking.

"In the woods somewhere. You got knocked out by the Careers. I carried you with my muscles aw yeah to somewhere safe!" His face fell. "I'm sorry you got hurt, princess. Forgive me?"

"Ú-moe edaved, Ike," she muttered, standing. _There is nothing to forgive. _Because there was no way she'd say something like that in a language he could understand. The more he felt indebted to her, the better, because he'd be easier to use.

"You seem to be better." He grinned at her. "You're talking in random languages again."

"Indeed."

Ike considered her. "I told you I would protect you. So I will. If by my life or death I can save you, I will."

She shook her head, disregarding this. "Who died while I was out?" An abrupt change of subject, but all this talk of protecting was getting awkward. Ike, with his lack of social senses, probably wasn't bothered, but Lucy- all four of them- were.

"There were two cannons. I think one of them was Rowan- he let us escape. He fought them to protect us. A truly muscular- I mean, brave boy. Worthy of muscles. I mean honor."

"Noble of him."

_Hiro hon hîdh ab' 'wanath, _Timothy said quietly. _May he find peace after death._ Death pushed him away.

_We need to focus on winning. That's all that matters._

_What about him? What about Ike? Does he matter?_

_I understand that you care about him. Haven't we discussed this already?_

_What if we love him? What if _I_ love him? _There was pain in Timothy's voice.

_Do I not also have your love? _Death challenged. The other two voices were silent, listening to the two oldest argue.

_Gerich veleth nîn, 'Wanath, _Timothy said bitterly, falling into his own tongue as he always did when he was upset. _You have my love, Death. But so does he._

"MUSCLES AW YEAH," Ike blurted, apparently unnerved by Lucy's abrupt silence.

"..."

"MUSCLES-"

"I get it. Muscles." DeathLucy fought the urge to facepalm.

* * *

"Make yourself useful. Who's left?"

The wind whistled around Fionn and she sighed. It figured that the one time she tried to engage the voice of Branwell in conversation, it ignored her. After her repeated attempts to drive it off (none of which had worked), she had decided that she might as well try to trick the arena into helping her.

_There are eight others,_ the boy's voice finally whispered, surprising her.

"Who?" Maybe this wasn't such a bad plan after all.

_Three Careers. District Eight. Taylor. Sheila. Pyro girl. _Bran sounded sullen. _The only reason you'll talk to me is to get information. You own me a poem now. I get to read you a poem._

Fionn reflected on how different this voice was from the real Branwell. She'd liked the real one better, but at least she didn't have to worry about the voice trying to kill her. Or her having to kill the voice in order to win.

"Go ahead." She could accept this.

* * *

**No deaths this chapter!**

**Who's left: Fionn, Taristia, Primo, Taylor, Fenetre, Quarry, Ike, Lucy, Sheila**

**Review please!**


	24. Fear No Darkness

**Night Six Part Two**

* * *

The wood was filled with a golden light, the translucent crystal trees refracting the light so they themselves seemed made of gold. Sheila cautiously made her way among them, knife in her hand, the light reflecting in her blue eyes. Her shadow stretched out long and black behind her, across the dirt, like some evil phantom. Shadows darted around her and drew back from the light as if repelled by it.

Her fist clenched around the stone twig, a flash of pain lighting up her palm. The gold light remained. This was no dream.

There was a girl sitting in a clearing, bathed in light, hands up as if reaching for it. And indeed the light seemed to come from her hands, stretching up into the night sky in long, luminescent streamers.

The girl looked up as Sheila approached, eyes wide. "You're in my dream," she whispered.

"No. You're in mine." Sheila sprang, knife flashing in the golden light as she aimed for the girl's throat. Her heart sped up in anticipation of the rush she'd get from spilling this girl's blood. Maybe if she killed, the dreams would stop-

Something threw her back, driving her into a tree. The knife clattered from her hand and she watched with disbelief as something like a hand reached from the thick golden light and snatched it up, bearing it back to the girl.

"Who are you?" the District Nine girl hissed, trying to get up. There was an incredible weight on her chest, as if the light was pinning her down. But surely that was impossible...

"Taylor. My name is Taylor." And the girl smiled at her. There were dark streaks on her face, black in the golden light, that Sheila recognized as dried blood. She'd seen the District Five boy's face in the sky the night before last, so she assumed that that was his blood. Had this girl killed him?

"Let me up." Her voice was flat, emotionless- if Taylor was going to kill her, she would've done it already.

"Will you hurt me?"

"It's hardly as though I have my knife anymore," Sheila pointed out, ignoring the crushing pain of the light. "And it seems that you could stop me even if I did try."

"Then stand." And the weight was gone, just like that. Sheila sat up cautiously, eyes fixed on Taylor. This girl would have to die. But now was not the time- Taylor was the one with the power in this situation. And until the tables were turned, Sheila would just have to work with what she had.

But as soon as Sheila learned how to control the arena as this girl did... then the time for slaughter would come.

The thought of that made her smile.

"Allies?" she asked, projecting sweetness into her voice and a smile onto her face.

* * *

"Remember what you said."

Taristia drew her knife, eyes fixed on Quarry. "I know. I know I said I'd kill her." The thought had crossed her mind that Primo had manipulated her quite deftly there, getting her to agree to carry it out, but that didn't mean it wasn't a good idea.

"Will you? Right now?"

"She's almost dead anyways. There's no way she can survive." Taristia held her knife against Quarry's throat almost tenderly, placing the razor-thin blade where the blueish vein pulsed under the District Seven girl's flushed skin.

"I don't deny that, captain. But end her life and out alliance will end as well." And was that regret she heard in his voice as he spoke of their end? Perhaps, if they had not entered the arena together...

"So be it." The words were harsh, but still she hesitated.

Primo's dark eyes were cool as he looked down at her. "Then farewell, captain. Perhaps we may yet meet again."

"When we do, I'll kill you," she replied. But there was no real threat in her voice.

Beneath her, Quarry stirred, eyelids fluttering slightly. "...Mother?" she whimpered, fever-bright eyes searching the sky above for something neither of her allies could see.

"Quarry?" Taristia asked, knowing that this was just another dream, another sleep-talking, fever-fueled moment of what now passed for life for Quarry.

"I fear no darkness," the District Seven girl said in a remarkably clear voice. Then her eyes drifted shut again and she moved no more save the soft rise and fall of her chest. But even that would end soon.

Feeling Primo's eyes on her, Taristia looked down at her ally, at the blood-soaked bandages that were wrapped around the stump of her left wrist, at her feverish skin. And then she drew the knife against the soft skin of her throat.

The blood spilled warm over her hands, glistening black in the darkness. She looked up to see Primo turn and walk away, silhouetted against the glowing red path. Quarry's cannon fired.

Something splashed on the back of her hand and she put her fingers to her cheek, surprised to feel the wetness there.

_Why am I crying?_

* * *

"Is it ironic that for all his plans, Primo still hasn't figured out the last part of the arena?" Rowena regarded Kushana, head tilted to one side. "And that the only ones that have are two non-Careers?" On the screen in front of her, the cameras zoomed in on the District Six girl, who was currently breathing out streams of fire and laughing at the way the light played over the ground.

Crazy pyro girl.

The blonde Gamemaker fixed her dark blue eyes on the twin. "Perhaps Primo is not as smart as he thinks he is."

Azuki looked up, eyes bright. "Don't you see the genius of this arena, though? It levels the playing field!"

"Of course you'd say that. You're the primary designer." Dany looked up from her steaming cup of tea, green cat-like eyes gleaming with amusement. "And I must say, I'm glad I assigned that job to you. Your holographic projectors work very well~"

"If Taylor and Fenetre figured out how to manipulate the arena, then they might be able to win. Then again, the first is a crazy mentally-challenged idiot and the second is a pyro that wants to blow up her District. If Sheila figures it out, she has a shot." Azuki nodded.

"And if Primo figures it out everyone's screwed."

"Oh, I'm sure we're all part of Primo's plan~"

* * *

**9) Quarry Wainwright: Um. Not sure she'd have survived very long with only one hand. Plus blood loss and all that. I mean, it'd have been unrealistic to have her survive much longer. But I realized that the Career alliance fell apart unusually early. I'll just pull my usual excuse. Which would be Primo. And Taristia's soft side showed up again. The arena must be getting to her.**

******Final eight! Fionn, Taristia, Primo, Taylor, Fenetre, Lucy, Ike, Sheila**

******New alliance! And an alliance falling apart!**

**Review please?**


	25. Fallen Hero

**Night Eight**

* * *

"I've noticed something, Bran."

_And what would that be?_

"Ever since you came and talked to me, the dreams have stopped. And life has gotten a bit easier because of it." Fionn strolled through the forest, acting like talking to the voice of a dead boy in her head was a completely normal thing to do. And she supposed that here, in this arena, it was normal.

_Well, that has more to do with the fact that the Gamemakers were done with that stage than the fact that I changed anything. Random things have also stopped attacking people- for now. It's because we're on the third stage._

"Is this even legal, what you're doing? Telling me all about the Gamemaker's plans and all that?" Not that it bothered Fionn much. Any advantage was good.

_I'm just an innocent little boy, _Bran replied. _I can do whatever I want, though, because I'm dead._

"Well. That's a pretty legitimate excuse for most things."

* * *

_This is what has to happen. _Death forced her way to the front of the collective mind, radiating pure determination. _We can't risk this anymore. We're down to the final eight. And if Ike dies, it'll be the final seven. _

_Would you sell your soul to live? _Timothy spat, trying to gain control._  
_

_If necessary, yes. A soul is irrelevant if our life is at stake._

_Death..._ Nyuu sounded as though she was on the edge of tears. _You can't do this._

_I'm doing what is necessary. One day you'll thank me._

_I sincerely doubt it._ Timothy sounded resigned, though, as though he knew that there was no point in arguing with Death.

_But you can't just kill him. He's too strong. _Lucy, who had remained silent for awhile, spoke up. _Muscles, right? He'd stop you before you could do anything._

Death paused. _True. Do you have a suggestion?_

_There's a Career camped a few paths away. _Lucy's voice was surprisingly strong. _He seemed strong. We saw him, right? Snuck past him and all that on our way to this campsite. And if anyone can beat Ike, it'd be a random Career that happens to be conveniently placed so we can make use of him._

_A good idea._

* * *

"A deal?" Primo regarded the girl that had appeared out of literally nowhere without a trace of surprise in his voice. "Why would I want to enter into a deal with a non-Career like you? What's stopping me from just killing you?"

"An opportunity to kill off one of your strongest opponents." The girl's silver eyes were hard and merciless as she regarded him.

This was all happening just as he had predicted. It was all part of his plan. Now just to rope in the girl a bit further...

"Seems to me like your District partner is nothing more than a muscle-obsessed freak." He kept his tone light and conversational, as if he was discussing the weather rather than whether or not he planned to kill this girl's ally. "Why would I see someone like him as a threat?"

"He's strong. He's dumb, but not so dumb he can't beat you in a fair fight."

He was vaguely amused by her idea that he gave anyone a 'fair fight'. But this was exactly the opening he had planned for- setting up camp this close, making himself available to her after overhearing her mutter to herself about how having an ally was too dangerous. He'd known she would see sense and come ask him for help.

"If I were to agree to kill him, what would you do?"

"Hide."

"Fair enough." Primo yawned and stretched. "Right now?"

"What?" She looked surprised, as though she hadn't expected him to actually agree. "R-right now?" For a moment there was indecision on her face, and Primo knew she was regretting it already. Good. Something to use against her later. "Okay. Come over in... in five minutes." And she hurried away, back to her campsite.

Primo smiled.

* * *

Ike lay on his back, face to the sky, one hand thrown carelessly over the ground. Lucy paused over him, regarding his sleeping face.

"Goodbye, Ike," she whispered, leaning down and kissing him softly on the cheek. "You were a good ally... while I needed you."

Then she turned, picked up her bag, and disappeared into the forest.

* * *

The first indication Ike had that something was wrong was a foot, prodding him in the side. He rolled over, expecting to see Lucy, and was understandably surprised to find the District Four boy there instead. So he went with his default response to mostly everything.

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!"

"..."

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!"

"...what?"

Ike stood, stretching and grinning at the boy. "Good morning. Though it might be evening. You can't tell here, can you? I'm Ike, by the way, and I have muscles aw yeah."

"No, you can't tell, I suppose. I'm Primo. District Four." The dark-haired boy smiled at Ike. "And I suppose I'm here to kill you."

"Cool. Why didn't you just slit my throat in my sleep?" He sounded honestly confused. "Would've been a lot easier."

Primo shrugged. "Maybe something about a fair fight. I heard that's the honorable thing to do. Not that I really care about honor or anything."

"All right. Do we fight with weapons or MUSCLES AW YEAH?"

"I'll use my knife. You can do whatever you want." Primo drew his weapon, never taking his eyes off of the District Eight boy. Which was a good thing, because Ike promptly went and tried to punch Primo's face off. With his muscles. Aw. Yeah.

"MUSCLES AW YEAH!"

"Do you ever shut up?" Primo asked, dodging another punch. "Anyways, I feel like this fight is a complete joke, so do you mind if I just stab you now?"

"Yeah, I might mind that." Ike's fist connected with Primo's shoulder and the District Four boy went flying backwards, crashing into the ground with enough force to drive the breath from him. Ike loomed over him, arms raised in an intimidating gesture no doubt meant to convey the intention to crush in his skull or something like that.

Primo raised his blade and drove it into the bigger boy's stomach. Ike fell back, blood spurting from the wound, and Primo chuckled. The air around the two boys seemed to warp, and the knife jumped from the wound back into Primo's hand.

"See, weapons always outfight muscles," Primo noted.

"Aw yeah," Ike added, apparently automatically, probably referring to the muscles and not the statement itself.

"But it was a good try." Primo sheathed the knife and stepped away. "Have a good time dying."

"Muscles... aw..." Ike whispered, struggling to get the words out. He went limp, eyes staring sightlessly at the sky above.

"Muscles aw yeah," Primo finished for the dead boy, a smile on his face. "And that's one down, seven to go."

* * *

The cannon blast made Taylor jump with surprise. Sheila had to repress a snort- if she was still unnerved by that sound, eight days into the arena, then the District Five was even more pathetic than she had initially thought.

"Someone died!" the shorter girl gasped.

"I noticed." Sheila really wanted to kill this idiot. Taylor and her constant 'discovering the world for the first time' facial expressions were getting on her nerves. What was wrong with this girl?

If it hadn't been for the fact that Taylor could manipulate the arena, Sheila would've killed her long ago. Killed her and enjoyed it, because killing was fun.

It might have occurred to her that such sadistic thoughts hadn't been normal before entering the arena. But it just seemed so normal now, to want to spill an innocent's blood, watch them die screaming and writhing in pain under your knife. Totally. Normal.

The halo of light that constantly surrounded Taylor (even when she slept) flickered slightly. "I don't want to die."

"You've expressed that opinion before." And, like most things about Taylor, it annoyed her. But Sheila actually physically couldn't leave at the moment- whenever she tried to, Taylor's light literally dragged her back. So the only choice was to actually learn how to do stuff like this. Because then she could kill Taylor.

Taylor regarded her. "Do you care about me? Don't lie. Auden said lying's bad."

"Yes," Sheila lied. She didn't give a damn what that annoying boy had said. He was dead. So he was wrong. "Hey, Taylor?"

"Yeah?"

"Teach me how to do that thing with the light." Sheila waved her hands around vaguely. "You know."

Taylor frowned. "I'm not really sure how I do it."

The District Nine girl fought the urge to facepalm. _I can't wait to kill her..._

* * *

**8) Ike Reddo (killed by Primo): well. Muscle boy's gone now, which is sad... and Lucy betrayed him, which is even sadder.**

**Final Seven: Fionn, Taristia, Primo, Taylor, Fenetre, Lucy, Sheila**


	26. See You Again

**Night Nine Part One**

* * *

Tarisitia was walking through the stone forest, minding her own business, when a mutt lept out of literally nowhere and attacked her.

"What, did the Gamemakers get bored and decide to throw something at me? That's actually not even funny," she grumbled, whipping out her sword. The mutt was large and dark, vaguely resembling a giant armadillo. Not a very threatening animal, overall. But if it was in the arena, it could probably hurt her somehow.

So she stabbed it. And blood flew everywhere. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to kill it.

"Fuck."

The armadillo-mutt looked up at her, apparently unaware of the fact that her sword was sticking out of it.

"Okay, you can't make your goddamn mutts immortal. That's just not fair." Taristia pulled the sword out and stabbed it again. When this, too, had no effect, she turned around and started walking away.

The mutt lept over her head and landed in front of her, blocking her path.

"The hell?" Guess she had to fight this thing to get it to leave her alone, then. Beheading it ought to do the trick. That tended to get your enemies to leave you alone.

She lunged at it, sword flashing, and snarled with annoyance as it drew back.

"Fucking hell! You piss me off! You're almost as bad as that idiot Primo!" She managed to stab it and was rewarded with another spatter of blood. "And what the hell was with him just up and leaving me once Quarry was dead? I don't think that's fair. The Careers are supposed to stick together to the very end, right?"

The mutt snorted as if in agreement, half-heartedly snapping at her leg.

"But I suppose he thought I'd stab him in his sleep. And damn right I would! He pissed me off!" One of the armadillo-mutt's paws went flying into the underbrush. "But that's no reason for him to leave me!"

Her sword finally met the mutt's neck and its head went spiraling off into the darkness. She stood over the body, panting, sword still out as if she expected the headless body to stand and attack her.

"I'm gonna kill him," she spat. "Primo's going down. Him and his stupid 'I've-got-a-plan' attitude. Well, I'm just gonna mess up his plan, huh?"

* * *

"Where are you going?"

Sheila turned, meeting Taylor's eyes and hoping that her disgust at the girl's weakness was hidden. "I heard a sound. I'm going to go investigate. Can I have my knife?"

Taylor's eyes narrowed. "Are you going to attack me?"

The District Nine girl sighed. "No."

"Then here." An arm of light lifted the knife and tossed it to Sheila, who caught it easily. For an instant she considered going ahead and stabbing Taylor, but she had a feeling that she'd be stopped before she could even get close. And she hadn't been lying- she had heard something in the woods.

So she turned and walked away, aware of Taylor's pale eyes on her back.

Only a few yards into the trees she found footprints, smaller than hers or Taylor's. She grinned, feeling the familiar and comforting weight of the knife in her hand. A weapon and someone to hunt. It was like a dream come true. She sped up, eyes fixed on the footprints, which led deeper and deeper into the woods.

And then they disappeared.

"Come on out, whoever you are," Sheila called. "I know you're there. Is hiding like a coward your strategy?"

The sound of an indrawn breath made her look up. There she was- the District Three girl, cowering on a tree branch overhead, glaring down at her.

"There you are. Fionn, correct?"

"Go away." The girl's voice was strong, but Sheila could hear the fear in it. That fear sent a thrill through her like nothing else did. The anticipation of the kill grew.

"Come down," she said patiently. "I'm waiting for you."

"Bran says you've killed people. So you're probably going to kill me if I come down. So maybe I'll just stay up here, okay?"

"Then I suppose I must come up to you." Without even pausing, Sheila grabbed the nearest branch and pulled herself up, leaping onto the branch that Fionn had taken refuge on. "Who's Bran? Your imaginary friend?"

"He was my ally." Fionn drew her knife, not taking her eyes off of Sheila. "He's dead."

"And you hear his voice in your head. So you're crazy." No less crazy than her, but that was beside the point. "Well, if he died that means he was really pathetic. Right?"

As expected, this got a reaction from Fionn. "Don't insult him!" she snarled, reaching forward as if trying to stab Sheila. It was all too easy for the District Nine girl to duck and shove the shorter girl backwards, off the branch. For an instant, Fionn was balanced on the edge, teetering over the dark ground. And then she fell, landing hard on her back with a dull thump.

Sheila lept down, landing lightly next to the fallen girl. Fionn tried to rise and fell back with a cry of pain.

"Does that hurt?" There was something rising in Sheila that might have been joy- it had been so long since she'd been this happy. "Are you in pain?" She knelt beside the District Three girl and placed the knife against her neck, feeling the emotion surge in her- like that last time...

_The men hadn't expected a girl like her to be able to find them, hadn't expected a girl like her to have the ability to kill them. But there had been a knife in her hand when she slid in through the window. And she'd used that knife on the nearest man, slitting his throat before they even realized she was there._

_The amount of blood in a human body had surprised her. And by the time she was done in that room, there were puddles of blood on the floor, dark red splashes of it on the walls and ceiling..._

"Tell me, Fionn. Do you think you'll become a voice in someone's head when you die? Like your precious Bran?" Sheila slid the knife along Fionn's collarbone, watching the blood well up.

"Kill me, then. Kill me so I can see him again."

"You disgust me. Giving up like this?" Or maybe it was just that Fionn was realistic. Her back was almost certainly broken by that fall, so there was really no way she could survive...

_She had taken her time with the last one, the tall one with the red hair. Such distinctive hair. She'd have recognized him anywhere even without that trait, though. It was hard to forget the face of the one that had disemboweled her mother._

_His screams made something in her stir that she'd never felt before. The idea that she might have taken such pleasure in another human's pain would have been unthinkable before this- but watching him die, bloody and screaming, was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen._

_And from that day, every time she killed someone, whether in the service of the Mafia boss or on her own, she remembered the look of absolute despair on his face as she ripped his heart out with her bare hands._

Sheila sank the knife into Fionn's shoulder and was rewarded by a scream of pain and a gush of blood. The warm flow over her hands made her laugh aloud, a delirious and slightly insane sound that rose into the night.

The joy... the pleasure... why couldn't she feel anything else?

Why did she only feel anything at all when she was killing someone?

When the cannon finally fired, she sank back, tears of happiness flowing over her blood-stained cheeks. This was what made her feel alive.

* * *

"So how come no one's had any dreams recently?" Alyza asked the room at large. "And how come the only mutt that we've seen in awhile was an armadillo?"

"If you'd been paying attention, you'd know that we're on the third stage. No more dreams are necessary," Azuki replied.

"And there's no need for mutts when the tributes are developing telekenetic skills," Kushana added, smiling. "And when half of them are developing scarily sadistic tendencies."

"I feel like you should insert an evil laugh there," Dany noted.

* * *

******7) Fionn Peyton (killed by Sheila): So now everyone that liked her is going to hate Sheila...**

**Final six: Taristia, Primo, Taylor, Fenetre, Lucy, Sheila**


	27. Into the Light

**Night Nine Part Two**

* * *

Fenetre knew she was getting closer to that really, really awesome explosion. The one that had been foreshadowed for the past few days. And since she'd apparently been doing nothing since her last appearance but hanging out in the woods, playing with fire...

Speaking of which, she was now up to the point where she could make a tree explode if she looked at it hard enough.

It was a very amusing pastime.

Soon she'd have to find a human. Because blowing up a human seemed like a very, very amusing thing to do.

* * *

Taylor glanced up as Sheila strode back into their camp. "You killed someone."

"Yes. I did." The District Nine girl's blue eyes were inscrutable as she made her way over. There were streaks of drying blood on her face and hands.

"Give me back your knife."

"Why should I?" There was something in her voice that might have been contempt. "A weakling like you shouldn't have any kind of control over me."

The light surrounded Sheila, snapping its golden chains over her limbs and pinning her arms to her sides. Taylor stood, feeling the rush of power that always accompanied her manipulation of the arena.

"I have control over you because I am stronger than you. And I can control this arena."

"Do I look like I give a damn? You're still weaker than me." Sheila's hand moved to her knife, and Taylor was surprised to find that the light didn't seem to be an impediment. She narrowed her eyes, trying harder to keep the District Nine girl's hand still, but to no avail.

"How are you doing this? This is my dream. You can't hurt me because you're in _my_ dream!" Taylor said, sounding remarkably like a young, petulant child.

"Want to test that theory out?" The knife flew from Sheila's hand in a silver blur, slicing cleanly through the golden mist that surrounded Taylor. The District Five girl felt a blinding pain in her neck and staggered back, feeling blood rising in her mouth. Sheila stepped closer, the light fading around her.

"You..."

"I killed you." There was a smile on Sheila's face, and Taylor realized that this was the first time she'd seen the generally emotionless girl smile.

"You _bitch!_" Taylor spat, struggling up. The light crackled around her, a golden spear driving itself into Sheila's leg. The taller girl staggered back, blood spurting from the wound. Sheila's expression didn't change.

"Where'd an idiot like you learn a word like that?"

Taylor fell back, panting, the light dimming again. Was this what Auden meant when he said that the other tributes would want to hurt her? This hurt. And Sheila had been her ally. Just like Auden.

"Oh, I'll bet it was your boyfriend. The one you blather on about. Auden, right?" Sheila bent down to pick up her knife, ignoring the blood soaking her left pant leg. "Well, you can go join him now. Because I have no use for you anymore."

"What...?"

"I learned a lot from you, Taylor. But you've outlived your usefulness." Sheila snapped her fingers and a bright white spark appeared above them, cold and stark against the warm golden glow that still surrounded Taylor. "This is the last stage of the arena, right? Making your own dreams come true. Well, my dream is to kill." She lowered her hand, the spark dancing closer and closer to Taylor's pale face.

"That's a terrible dream," Taylor choked out.

"Your opinion doesn't really matter, does it?" The spark was now inches from Taylor's right eye. "What do you dream about, little girl?"

"The light." Something that might have been happiness crossed Taylor's face. "I dream about the light... and Auden."

Sheila snapped her fingers again and the spark drove itself into Taylor's eye. The District Five girl spasmed, letting out an ear-splitting shriek... and then she fell still. A cannon boom echoed through the arena as Sheila leaned back, smiling.

A fresh spurt of blood from her leg made her wince. Extending the injured limb, she tentatively probed the wound with her fingers.

"Damn bitch," she muttered under her breath, glaring at Taylor's dead body. "Wounding me like this. How dare you strike someone like me?"

Well. The insufferable girl was dead now, and the world was a better place for it. At least in Sheila's opinion.

Now all she had to do was wait. They were down to the last five, so if she was going to make her move she would have to do so very soon. But that was okay. There was no way someone like her could be brought down by pretty much anyone that was still alive.

* * *

_Timothy? Timothy, why aren't you talking to me? _Lucy sounded very scared.

_He's not talking to you or Death because he's mad at you, _Nyuu replied. The five year old was solemn as she mentally turned away from Lucy. _And I'm mad at you, too._

_It was the right choice,_ Death protested. _Ike had to die. _

_Wouldn't it have been more fair to fight him ourselves? _Nyuu asked, acting as a mouthpiece for Timothy, who was still sulking.

_Since when has 'fair' counted for anything? This is life and death, not some stupid little game, _Death snapped. _I was keeping us alive. That was all that mattered._

_You stained our hands with blood that can never be washed away,_ Timothy finally whispered.

_Stop being so melodramatic. I did no such thing. It was in self-defense. And I will not hesitate to kill again when the time comes._

_Stop being so heartless, Death. _And Timothy retreated back into silence.

* * *

**6) Taylor Lezeret (killed by Sheila)- five people left. So close to the end... Taylor was a pretty interesting character. It's probably safe to say that I've never seen anyone quite like her in any other SYOT. But it just wouldn't have been believable for her to win. Or get much farther than this.**

**A shorter chapter, I'm very sorry.**

**Let's see if you can name the top five, huh?**

**HEY EVERYBODY go submit to FreeInk's new SYOT. Thanks.**


	28. Fire and Slaughter

**Night Eleven**

* * *

"Come on over, little girl," Fenetre whispered, watching the District Eight girl walk. She was following, silent as a gust of wind, eyes alight with anticipation. Oh, this was going to be so much fun. After so many days alone in the forest, to find someone new to play with. Someone she could introduce to her own best friend.

Speaking of which...

Fenetre blew out a breath and almost giggled aloud at the sparks that danced in the plume of condensation. She was becoming a thing of fire, slowly but surely. She could feel its heat in her, burning her from within- but it was a good burn. A wonderful, beautiful burn. She must share it or go mad with the delight.

The girl she was following stopped and looked around as if sensing Fenetre's presence. The District Six girl decided that this was as good a time as any to reveal herself.

"Hello!"

As expected, the girl shrieked and stepped back. Her eyes- which Fenetre could have sworn were green only seconds ago- flashed silver as she drew her knife.

Fenetre held up her hands, grinning. "Hey, calm down. I ain't got no weapon, eh?" No weapon save the fire inside of her, that was.

"Who are you?" The girl didn't lower her knife.

"Fenetre Feu, District Six. Orphan and pyromaniac." She kept on smiling as she inched closer to the girl. "You're District Eight, right? Lucy?"

"Yes. I am Lucy. And if you take one step closer, you might find my knife buried in your throat." There was an unexpected steel in Lucy's voice, a coldness that Fenetre would not have expected from someone who didn't look much older than fifteen.

"Aw, no need to be so harsh." Fenetre did stop, though- this was close enough for what she planned, anyways. "I just wanted to say hi."

"This is the Hunger Games. No one just stops by to say hi, have a cup of tea."

"Really?" Fenetre's fingers knotted behind her back. She felt the heat building there and relished it. This was going to be _so much fun._

"What're you doing?" Lucy asked sharply. "Get your hands out from behind your back."

"Sure." And grinning widely, Fenetre withdrew her hands, revealing them. They were wreathed in flame, orange and red and yellow light spilling over her palms. She could smell her own flesh burning, hear the flames crackle, but she felt no pain. All she saw was beauty.

"What...?" Lucy tried to back away, but it was far too late.

Fenetre brought her hands together and the fire exploded outwards, racing up her arms and arcing out towards the District Eight girl. Lucy had time to turn and take one step before the explosion overtook her, incinerating her in a matter of seconds. And the fire was spreading backwards, too, surrounding its creator. But she didn't care. This was where she was happy, anyways. What better way to die than in the arms of your best friend?

"It's beautiful," Fenetre whispered as the fire enveloped her in its warm embrace.

* * *

Sheila stretched out her injured leg, face betraying none of the pain it caused her. Taylor's light-sword-thing had punched through her left calf, and although the entrance and exit wounds were starting to close up, it hurt like hell. Apparently that's what happened when you were impaled like that.

She glanced up at the sky. Soon it would be time for the nightly display, the list of the dead... of which there had been two today. If she was going to make her move, it would have to be now.

Really, it had been Taylor who had gotten her thinking on this track. It had been Taylor who had given her the means to figuring out this arena. So she had to give that dead girl some credit. Maybe Taylor was the reason Sheila was still alive.

_You're in my dream._

That was what this arena was, wasn't it? A dream. Taylor had figured out how to control that dream, and Sheila had been able to figure it out by watching her ally. So this... this might actually work.

She looked up into the darkness and closed her eyes. That sound that she wanted to hear had sounded twice already today, so the memory of it was fresh in her mind. As long as she concentrated, this should work. And death had always been her best friend, so it wasn't as though she didn't know what it felt like, on some level, to end life.

_Blood. Pain. Death._

_The sounds of a body falling to the ground, a choked off scream of pain, the blank sightless eyes string upwards at nothing..._

The sound shook the arena, a dull boom, familiar after so long. Sheila's eyes snapped open and the corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a hint of a smile. First part, completed. Now for the second half.

She had timed it almost perfectly. The sky burst into light, the only light that the tributes had seen for days, and the seal of Panem appeared. She sat back to watch the show, quiet satisfaction filling her. The sky was a mirror, above the arena and above her. Manipulating this was the easiest thing she had ever done.

Though not as easy as killing. She liked killing. She couldn't wait to kill again.

Being in the arena was actually very, very fun. Giving in to the more primal side of humanity, letting your bloodthirst rule you for awhile. And in the end, what it came down to was simple. The Hunger Games wasn't really about putting down rebellion or entertaining the Capitol. It was about death.

And death was fun when you were the one dealing it out.

* * *

Taristia had been hovering on the edge of sleep, leaning back against a tree, when the sounds of the anthem jolted her awake. Her hand closed around the hilt of her sword, but just as quickly relaxed.

First there was the pyro girl from Six, Fenetre. Taristia wasn't surprised. The light of the explosion had been visible through the entire arena, and somehow she couldn't see anything like that happening unless the pyro girl was there. There had been two cannons, though.

Lucy Silk, District Eight. Taristia had completely forgotten who she was. Obviously not someone that deserved to win, if she'd gotten taken out by something as minor as a small explosion. Well, she had always known that it would come down to her and Primo-

A final face flashed in the sky and she realized that that particular showdown was even closer than she had imagined. Sheila Birsten, District Nine... her cannon must have sounded while Taristia was asleep. So it really was just District Four left. The Capitol must have been going wild- they liked nothing better than some District-partner grudge matches. Especially in the final two.

The final two...

Taristia had a feeling that this time tomorrow, she would be sleeping in a Capitol bed.

* * *

"What. Just. Happened." Alyza stared at the screen in front of her, frowning. "I don't get it."

"You're really stupid, then," Dany replied, annoyance creeping into her voice. "I have no idea why I hired you as Gamemaker. Don't you see what Mafia Girl just did?"

"What did she do, then?" the purple-eyed woman snapped.

"She faked her own death in the only real way that counts in the arena. She made the sky obey her commands. Pretty neat trick, if I do say so myself." Dany took a sip of her tea, ignoring Alyza's glare.

"You're letting her rig it in her favor. That's not right."

"Are you questioning your Head Gamemaker's judgement?" Her tone was deceptively playful. One wrong word from Alyza, though, and...

"Maybe I am!" Alyza stood, face flushing red. "I don't even understand why you're the Head Gamemaker, anyways. All you ever do is sit around and... and _drink tea_!" She spun on one heel and stormed from the room.

"Oh, my." Dany set her cup of tea aside and turned to Isis, who had been standing a few feet away the whole time, face buried in a book. "Notify the Peacekeepers. I want her arrested. Can't have her doing anything stupid, ne?"

"Aye, sir." Isis wandered from the room, turning a page in her book as she did so.

* * *

**5) Lucy Silk: I feel like people started not liking her after she killed Ike. I thought she was a very cool character, myself, since anyone with voices in her head is at least interesting.**

**4) Fenetre Feu: well, she got her explosion in the end. I'm sure that made her happy. PYRO GIRL! **

**And we're down to the top three. Because Sheila's still alive. Even though everyone else now thinks she's dead.**


	29. Finale: Rising Sun

**Night Twelve: Dawn**

* * *

And so it ended just as he had always planned for it to end: with him and Taristia in the final two, fighting for that last spot. Fighting for the chance to go home.

Wait. Fighting? Not even. She didn't stand a chance against him, Primo Nitore, the best District Four tribute to ever enter the arena. How could she stand a chance, when he had planned this entire Game? And every step of the way had gone according to his plan. That was a pretty good feeling.

All there was left to do now was wait. He had taken a long walk though the woods, passing very close to his District partner's camp as he did so. He had made no effort to hide his tracks. She would come, suspecting a trap- but that, too, was part of his plan.

"Hurry up, Taristia," he muttered to himself, running a finger along the blade of his sword. "I'm waiting~"

* * *

Taristia paused where Primo's steps led into a clearing and stopped. It was obvious that he had been leading her here, probably in order to ambush her. But if he thought she could be taken in by something as simple as that, he was very, very wrong.

"I know you're there," she called flatly, tightening her grip on her sword. "No use hiding like the coward you are."

"I'm insulted." A figure stepped from the shadows, sword gleaming in the starlight. "But it's nice to see you too, captain. Took you long enough to get here."

The sound of the old nickname made her frown. "Why continue to call me that when you're no longer part of my alliance?"

"I respected you as a captain, that's all. But now that you're going to die, do you think I should call you by your name?"

"Do whatever you want. But it's you that's going down tonight, not me."

"This morning."

"Huh?"

"It's finally morning. Can't you see?" Primo gestured to the east, where the sky was ever so slightly lighter than the rest of the starry expanse. "Looks like the Gamemakers decided to make the sun rise on the last day."

"Whatever." Taristia decided that wasting time like this was stupid. Hoping to catch Primo off guard, she launched herself towards him, blade aimed at his throat. He stepped aside almost casually and brought his blade down. She parried, smiling slightly as the force of her blow sent him stumbling back a few steps.

_Who's the best now, Primo?_

"Don't get too confident," the boy teased as if reading her mind. "I'm still far superior to you- see?" His blade darted out, stinging her cheek. She felt blood start to trickle down her cheek, warm against her skin, but pawed it away and glared at Primo.

"So you scratched me. Big deal." Her hand flashed out and her sword connected with his arm. He staggered back, eyes wide, and blood spurted from the gash in his shoulder. Taristia let out a laugh that could be classified as insane and pressed on, yanking out her knife and burying it in his chest.

"You..." He wavered, then fell to his knees, blood bubbling up from between his lips and pouring over his chin. Taristia let out a triumphant laugh and yanked her knife free, shoving Primo away.

"I just won."

Primo looked as though he was about to say something. His lips moved but nothing more than another stream of bright red blood emerged. The sky had now lightened to a light grey, just enough for Taristia to make out the expression of surprise and pain on her District partner's face.

And then, before her disbelieving eyes, Primo disappeared.

"What the hell?" she screamed, spinning around, searching for him. A mocking laugh rang through the forest.

"Aw, captain, did you really think that you could win that easily?" Primo stepped out from the trees, quite unharmed.

"How...?" Taristia gestured to where Primo's body had been only moments before, unable to express her confusion.

"Simple." Primo snapped his fingers and _another_ Primo, identical in every way to the original, popped up beside him.

"You can manipulate the arena like that?"

"Since when were you under the impression that I wasn't comtrolling the arena?" The second Primo disappeared with another wave of his hand. "If I wanted to, I could create an army to beat you. An army of myself. But I don't think I need to resort to such cheap tricks to beat you, do I?"

Taristia swung her sword up, hoping to catch him off guard. He blocked it casually. "I can still kill you," she spat. "I beat you just now, I can beat you again."

"Can you? Can you really?" And to Taristia's complete and utter shock, he dropped his sword and stood there, defenseless. She wasted no time. Raising her blade, she impaled him with one smooth motion.

The sword burst from her own chest, slick with her blood.

For a few seconds, all she could do was stare at it in disbelief. That wasn't possible. She had stabbed Primo. So why was the sword sticking out of her, now?

"Poor, poor Taristia." Primo sounded very smug. "Looks like you got fooled again."

A wave of pain sent her crashing to the ground. She looked up at the District Four boy, lips forming the word _how?_

"Easy. I reversed everything. As I said before. The arena's been under my control _the entire time_." He was leaning over her now, watching her die.

Her hand crept beneath her, fingers closing around the hilt of her knife. "Damn... you..." she gritted out, trying to distract him.

"Aw, you're just mad that I won~"

With the last of her strength, she wrenched the knife from its sheath and hurled it at him. He doubled over with an indrawn breath of pain, the knife sticking out of his stomach. Blood spattered over her as he fell to his knees beside her, panting.

"Doesn't matter," he managed to whisper. "I've won. You're already dead."

She ground her teeth, struggling to maintain consciousness. "Like I'd lose... there's no way... no way I'd lose to someone like you!" Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. The cannon fired.

Primo fell back, grinning. A sharp cough sent a spasm though his body. Blood trickled from between his lips, but that didn't matter. It was over, he was going home...

But something was wrong.

Where was the fanfare, the announcement of his victory? Where was the Capitol hovercraft, descending from above to take him home? Shouldn't all that have happened by now? Taristia was dead, and...

There was a rustling in the bushes and a figure stepped out. Primo turned his head to look, horror and dawning comprehension replacing the elated feeling of victory.

Sheila.

The District Nine girl's blue eyes were bright as she stepped closer, an incongruous smile on her face. "Hello, Primo."

"You're dead." He said it flatly, unable to believe the evidence of his eyes. Her cannon had fired. Her face had been in the sky. Why was she still here?

"Am I, now?"

His normal sword had fallen from his hands, but now he drew from beneath his jacket a very familiar blade. It was broken off less than a foot from the hilt, but the edges glittered in the pre-dawn light, deadly sharp. The sword of a boy that his District partner, now as dead as he, had killed. "Even if you aren't right now, you will be very soon."

"A broken sword. How will that beat me?"

Primo forced himself to his feet, face going white with pain. He clutched his middle, feeling the knife grate against one of his ribs. "I can beat you even with a broken sword because with your ability, you can't even make my knees touch the ground."

"We'll see about that, eh?" And she still had that smile on her face as her knife spun through the air towards his head. He batted it out of the air with Rowan's sword, gritting his teeth.

The sun broke over the horizon, its blinding light slanting through the stone trees, setting them on fire with its radiance. Primo staggered back, blinking, and felt a sharp pain in his neck.

"Goodbye," Sheila whispered, face inches from his. He swayed, staring down at her.

_Looks like I lost this time. Oh, well..._

He laughed, and saw the surprise on his killer's face as he did. "Well, that was fun. Thanks, everybody."

_It was fun killing you, it was fun dying at your hands. To the tributes of the Hundred and First Hunger Games, I say... thank you. For letting me have my fun this last time._

Maybe that was understanding there, in Sheila's eyes. Maybe she even envied his death. But he could see the pleasure she took in killing him. She liked murder.

_I did too._

But all that was over now.

The ground rushed up to meet him, and the rising sun faded into the darkness.

His cannon fired.

* * *

**3) Taristia Proneram**

**2) Primo Nitore**

**Victor: Sheila Birsten**

**Well, um... I mean, I get that half of you expressed a deep hatred for her through the last few chapters. Which I didn't get. But sometimes the Victor isn't someone that's very likable. No? I mean, I liked Sheila. But everyone's entitled to their own opinion.**

******A few questions for you, if you wouldn't mind answering them. Go to my profile real quick and refresh your memory on who was even in this. There's even a handy list of last lines for you to reference.**

**Which characters did you create (if any)?**

**Who was your favorite character and why (not one you created)?**

**2nd favorite (+why)?**

**Least favorite (+why)?**

**Favorite alliance?:**

**Favorite couple?:**

**Couple(s) you would've supported (that did not occur)?**

**Favorite chapter?**

**Best line?**

**Best death scene?**

******Best last line?**

**********Any complaints?**

**Further comments?**

**If I did another SYOT, would you submit?**


	30. Capitol: And the Sun Rose

**Capitol**

* * *

The hovercraft lifted Sheila out of the arena and into the light of the sun. The District Nine girl pressed her face to the glass of the window, eyes watering in the strong light. For almost two weeks she had seen nothing but the eldritch light of the paths and Taylor's golden glow. This was real light, and she welcomed it even though it meant the end of her time in the arena.

She had enjoyed that. She had felt more alive down there than she had ever felt back in District Nine. And now she had to go back to that dull, lifeless place, to live a long life full of nothing.

Couldn't that change, though?

The Mafia was no longer enough for her, that she knew. Killing others so quietly, on the orders of others, had lost its thrill. Something had gone out of her when she had killed Primo. Senseless slaughter, while fun, could no longer give her the scintillating high it used to.

Having a plan was better. Being the one behind the curtain, pulling the strings, was _far better.  
_

Why shouldn't she be the one in control?

* * *

"Here's to another successful Hunger Games!" Dany lifted her teacup into the air, green cat-like eyes shining with excitement. "And may next year's be just as good!"

"I do believe that this was the perfect way to begin our career as Gamemakers," Azuki said, nodding.

"It was fun!" Merete added.

"Yes, it was," Sansa agreed. "Even if working with you peasants gives me _such_ headaches, I do believe it was quite worth it."

"If even the princess had fun, it must have been a success," Kushana noted sardonically. "Then again, she always had a thing for killing innocent children."

"Don't we all?" Isis mumbled, turning a page in her book.

"We had fun, too!" Rowena exclaimed, speaking for her sleeping twin as usual. "Even if Regina won't wake up and admit it, this was the most epic thing we've ever done!"

"But..."

"What, Merete?" Dany turned her gaze on the second-oldest Gamemaker.

"What about Alyza?" Merete looked a bit nervous. "N-not that I'm questioning your judgement or anything, of course."

"Aw, there's no need to be scared~" Dany reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind Merete's ear, making the shorter woman flush bright red. "I won't hurt any of you. I just wanted to get her out of the way. I don't know why that bitch was ever allowed into this group."

"She did get on my nerves," Azuki allowed. "Often."

"And she had all sorts of moral qualms that are most unbecoming in a Gamemaker." As usual, the one making this semi-sarcastic, dark comment was Kushana.

"Because it would never do to feel remorse over killing children," Isis stated, flipping another page.

"There's no way you read that fast," Rowena muttered, staring at the older Gamemaker. If she heard the redhead's comment, Isis showed no sign of it.

"So what will you do with her?" Merete pressed, more confident now that she knew Dany wasn't going to order her thrown in jail as well. "I mean, you had her arrested. Are you just gonna leave her there in jail?"

"The fate of a peasant like her is irrelevant." Sansa picked a cookie up daintily in one perfectly manicured hand. "Do not trouble yourself with it."

"Don't worry," Dany said. "I've got a plan for her." There was a gleam in her green eyes that Alyza would have shuddered to see had she been present. A silence fell over the room as the Gamemakers stared at their leader, a similar thought running through all of their heads.

_I don't envy Alyza her fate, whatever it is._

* * *

Sheila opened the door to her room with a small sigh. Rewatching the Games with an audience watching had actually been pretty fun. Seeing all that blood got her excited again, and Dayton (the interviewer, for those of you who forgot him) had mistaken that for childish fear. She had been quick to dispel that idea.

Killing was fun, she had told him. Killing was what made her excited, not fear of death.

She was the killer. Everyone else was her prey. And they had no idea.

"You won. Congratulations," a voice spoke from the darkness. Sheila's hands went to a knife that wasn't there- she hadn't been allowed to keep any of her weapons. No matter. She could deal with intruders with her bare hands, if necessary-

"Oh, calm down." The lights flicked on, revealing a dark haired woman sitting on her bed. Her eyes were bright green, too bright to be natural, and had vertical pupils like a cat's. "There's no need to panic. I'm Daenerys Atreides, Head Gamemaker. A cute girl like you can call me Dany."

"What are you doing in my room?" There was no fear in her voice, only a cold sort of detached curiosity.

"Waiting for you," Dany replied simply. "I have a job for you. Anyone that was paying attention to the first scene can probably predict what that job is, but since you have no idea I'm going to be really mysterious and just not tell you what it is yet."

"...what?"

"Never mind. Just follow me." Dany slipped off of the bed and strode out the door. Sheila followed.

The two of them took the elevator down to the ground floor in awkward silence. Sheila busied herself by watching the light indicating the floor flash in a countdown from Nine. It was still a bit odd, not being in a life-or-death situation. She supposed she'd get used to it eventually, though. She wondered if she'd ever stop missing the feeling of killing, though.

Dany led her down a long flight of stairs, bootheels clicking on the white marble. Down, down, down they went, until Sheila was certain they were many floors below ground. At each landing they passed was a white-uniformed Peacekeeper. The Gamemaker gave each of these a nod as she passed, and they saluted her back, giving Sheila a curious stare.

They halted before a locked door. Dany produced the key from her pocket and inserted it into the heavy brass lock. It opened with a creak, revealing a dim room.

A blonde woman sat in a chair in the corner, leaning against the wall as though asleep. She raised her head when Dany entered through, opening her bright purple eyes. Sheila had to wonder why Capitol citizens felt the need to change their eye color. It was... weird, to say the least. But it was probably a product of all that free time they had.

"So you've come for me, have you?" she asked, voice a low croak.

"I haven't come for anything~" Dany replied, grinning. Her playful tone was so out of place in this room- this room that was obviously a prison- that Sheila stared at her for a few seconds. This Head Gamemaker was seeming more and more insane the more time she spent with her.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Oh, I'd never dirty my hands like that. My friend here, though, would probably be happy to."

It took Sheila a few seconds to realize that Dany was talking about her.

"I thought you might want to get in one last kill before heading home, that's all. Plus I couldn't really think of an excuse to get her publicly executed," Dany explained, a smile on her face. "It's not as though I can just tell the President that she's getting on my nerves, right? So I thought we could have a little off-the-record fun here."

"What do I get in return for being your executioner?" It seemed like a fair question to Sheila.

"What do you want?"

The District Nine girl considered this. What _did_ she want? Not to just go back and live a Victor's life, that was for sure. But neither did she want to go back to her old life of following the Mafia boss' orders, threatening petty criminals and puffed-up District politicians. That all seemed like a dream now, less real than the arena she had spent the past twelve days in. She had liked that dream while it had lasted, but she was awake now.

_I want to be the one behind the curtain. The one with the plan. Controlling all, seeing all. I want to be Death, because Death gets to pick and chose who she wants to kill._

"There's a certain Mafia Boss back in District Nine," she said slowly. "Do you think you can get rid of him?"

"And I suppose you'd want to take his place?" Dany sounded amused.

"But of course."

Dany handed her a knife. "Kill this woman. Then we can talk terms. I think it's perfectly possible to kill the Boss. He's always been a bit annoying, anyways. It'll be nice to have someone in the Mafia that owes allegiance to us." Something dark lit up her eyes. "You would be loyal to us, of course." It was not a question.

"Always." Sheila took the knife, turned to the purple-eyed woman, and smiled.

* * *

**So now we know what happened to Sheila. We'll just assume she went on to be an awesome Mafia Boss, eh? 'Cause that's all I feel like writing.**


	31. Epilogue: The Road Goes Ever On

**Epilogue: Gamemakers**

* * *

"Who gets to be the primary arena designer next?" Rowena bounced up and down, looking more like an excited two-year-old on her birthday than an adult Gamemaker discussing how to best kill children."Azuki got to have all the fun with this one. Designing it's more fun than doing the actual work."

"You may find that having is not so pleasing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true," Azuki noted, brushing her red hair back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dany asked, taking a sip of her gently steaming tea. "Anyways. I've decided. But it doesn't seem that we're all here."

Kushana looked around. "The twins. You. Me. Azuki. Merete. Sansa. And Alyza's dead. So who... oh, right. Isis."

"She's probably in a corner reading somewhere," Rowena said. As usual, her twin sister Regina was asleep next to her.

"A peasant like her should be on time. Only princesses like me are allowed to be late," Sansa sniffed.

"Isis!" Dany yelled. "Get in here!"

The door creaked open and a dark-haired woman wandered in, face buried in a book. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Hey, has it occurred to anyone that since Alyza's dead, the eight of us can be loosely compared to Fëanor and his sons? We even have twins..."

"You're late," Sansa snapped.

"But that doesn't matter. Because you're designing the arena next, Isis." Dany nibbled on a cookie, breaking off a fragment in her perfect teeth. She made her pronouncement with so little fanfare that it took a few moments for the rest of the Gamemakers to realize what had just been said.

"That peasant is the next designer?" Sansa shrieked.

"That's unfair," Rowena whined. "Regina and I'd be much better!"

"But she sleeps all the time," Merete pointed out in her usual blunt fashion. "She's pretty useless. I think Isis is a good choice!"

"Good luck," Azuki said calmly.

Isis' dark eyes were completely unsurprised, as though this news did not shock her in the slightest. "Thank you. I have some very good ideas. I'll put together a proposal right now, okay?" She turned towards the door, then paused. "Hey, is it socially acceptable to rig the Reaping?"

"As long as no one else finds out~" Dany grinned. "Looking forward to your proposal, kid."

"Thank you, ma'am." Isis bowed once before hurrying out with a small, unsettling smile on her face. Oh, the things she could do with this arena. The things she could do to the tributes. It was almost as exciting as getting a brand new book.

* * *

From the files of Daenerys Atreides, Head Gamemaker of Panem:**[annotated by androidilenya]**

The 101st Hunger Games

Length: twelve days

Winner: Sheila Birsten of District Nine (age 16)

Arena Identification: Forest Incarnation 78 (code name 'Forest of Dreams') + standard muttation array + change program 'Stage One: Dreams' + change program 'Stage Two: Reality' + change program 'Stage Three: Lucid Dreaming' + [feast not applicable] + mutt design #559: 'Orc'

Further records of this Game, including camera records from all Gamemaker meetings and footage for all surveillance cameras in arena, can be found in the Capitol computer records under category '101st Hunger Games'.

TRIBUTES

Cainan Rubin- #11 (killed by Rowan) **[by EmeraldBliss]**

Melinda Willmore- #14 (killed by Taristia) **[by fantasymoon1]**

Ryder Hall- #13 (killed by Elita) **[by Glimmerish47]**

Elita Upshow- #12 (killed by Primo) **[by Squintz]**

Branwell Anisson- #16 (killed by Elita) **[by peace and joyce]**

Fionn Peyton- #7 (killed by Sheila) **[by ImmyRose]**

Primo Nitore- #2 (killed by Sheila) **[by Cronomon]**

Taristia Proneram- #3 (killed by Primo) **[by lunalovespudding3]**

Auden Ringer- #15 (killed by mutt) **[by zinkyowl]**

Taylor Lezeret- #6 (killed by Sheila) **[by nb1998]**

Gavin Striker- #22 (killed by Primo) **[by raidin221]**

Fenetre Feu- #4 (killed in explosion) **[by VA842867]**

Rowan Lander- #10 (killed by Taristia) **[by CalliLily]**

Quarry Wainwright- #9 (killed by Taristia) **[by zinkyowl]**

Ike Reddo- #8 (killed by Primo) **[by Cronomon]**

Lucy Silk- #5 (killed by Fenetre) **[by ellsweetella]**

Caden Russell- #17 (killed by mutt) **[by nb1998]**

Sheila Birsten- #1 (n/a) **[by raidin221]  
**

Foster Beckett- #21 (killed by Rowan) **[by CalliLily]**

Kivuta Seiswen- #19 (killed by Sheila) **[by POMforever]**

Pastel Reus- #23 (killed by Elita) **[by VA842867]**

Trinya Howard- #18 (killed by arena) **[MoonlightDiva]**

Maxell Kyler- #20 (killed by Taristia) **[by EmmileeBlue]**

Oliver (Ollie) Tilson- #24 (killed by Taristia) **[by XxSockxAxChickxX]**

KILLS:

Taristia- Ollie, Maxell, Melinda, Rowan, Quarry (5)

Primo- Gavin, Elita, Ike, Taristia (4)

Sheila- Kivuta, Fionn, Taylor, Primo (4)

Elita- Pastel, Branwell, Ryder (3)

Fenetre- Lucy (1)

Rowan- Foster (1)

TRIBUTE AGE DATA:

Average age: 15.875

Mode: 16 (Primo, Gavin, Fenetre, Ike, Lucy, Sheila, Kivuta)

Median: 15 (Rowan, Quarry, Trinya)

Maximum: 18 (Cainan, Foster)

Minimum: 13 (Melinda, Maxell) **[surprisingly, there were no twelve-year-olds this year...]**

REAPING STATS:

Volunteers: Cainan, Melinda, Ryder, Elita, Branwell, Primo, Taristia, Quarry, Kivuta (9)

Reaped: Fionn, Auden, Taylor, Gavin, Fenetre, Rowan, Ike, Lucy, Caden, Sheila, Foster, Pastel, Trinya, Maxell, Ollie (15)

DAYS/DEATHS

Night One: Ollie, Pastel, Gavin, Foster, Maxell, Kivuta (bloodbath)

Night Two: Trinya, Caden

Night Three: Branwell

Night Four: Auden

Night Five: Melinda, Ryder, Elita, Cainan, Rowan

Night Six: Quarry

Night Seven: [no deaths]

Night Eight: Ike

Night Nine: Fionn, Taylor

Night Ten: [no deaths]

Night Eleven: Lucy, Fenetre

Night Twelve: Taristia, Primo

TRIBUTE FAMILIES: SIBLINGS

0 siblings: Elita, Fionn, Primo, Taylor, Fenetre, Quarry, Ike, Lucy, Caden, Sheila, Trinya

1 sibling: Melinda (little brother Peter), Ryder (little brother Axel), Taristia (older sister Helinie), Gavin (older sister Levi), Rowan (younger sister Darlya), Foster (younger sister Emily)

2 siblings: Cainan (older brother Jeriko, younger sister Jezebel), Branwell (little sisters Doreen and Megee), Auden (older sister Eliza, younger sister Mary-Clare), Pastel (younger brothers Robin and Red), Maxell (older brother Jacen), Ollie (younger sister Olivia)

3 siblings: Kivuta (triplet brothers Kyle and Joshua, younger sister Yumi)

* * *

**Well, that's all. It was a long ride, but we made it! My personal favorite tributes were Primo, Sheila, Fenetre, Ike... I mean, they were almost all great people. There were a lot of interesting tributes this year. Least favorite, though, had to be Ollie. Not that anyone probably remembers her. **

**The most amusing alliance to write for was Ike/Lucy. The Careers weren't as fun this year as they have been in the past, but that was okay. Fionn/Branwell was fun, too. And there weren't many couples this year. I'd have to go with Taylor/Auden for my favorite couple...? I think that was canon. In any case, I'm the author so I SAY IT WAS CANON.**

**I shipped: Primo/Taristia, Ike/Lucy, Auden/Branwell, Taristia/Elita, Elita/Fenetre, Fenetre/Melinda, Elita/Fenetre/Melinda, Taylor/Lucy, Sheila/Taylor.**

**My favorite chapter was the one where the Careers fight off the Orc army- er, I mean the mutt army. And Primo goes all Aragorn on them. He. The best death scene was Rowan's, closely followed by Fenetre's. The best last line was Rowan's little smile or Ike's unfinished MUSCLES AW YEAH or Maxell's "I will never forgive you." And I don't feel like answering any of my other questions, but I'm the author so I can do that. I wonder how many of you actually read this long author's note...?**

**So. I am doing another SYOT, as you may have figured out from the Gamemaker scene. Look forward to it. It'll be great. PM me if you're interested- veterans might get first pick at District slots~**

**Thank you to all who submitted/followed/reviewed. **


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